In Under the Never Sky, Aria is forced to acquire some savage skills pretty swiftly in the face of the hostile post-apocalyptic environment in which she suddenly finds herself.  Fortunately she has swoon-worthy savage Perry on hand to teach her some survival essentials – but Team Atom knew that, sadly, we might not be quite so lucky.

Between 10 and 5 on Tuesday 7th February, to celebrate the publicaton of Under the Never Sky, we asked you all to Tweet us your number one savage skill.  We had an amazing response, and it looks like there are some seriously creative survivors out there.  Veronica Rossi and Team Atom put our heads together for the difficult task of choosing five winning Tweets. 

Jazzmine B @jreadsalot

5 Advanced senses: hear & see extremely far & sense the chemical composition of things so there are no surprises

One more: I would love to have a much more agile digestive system to handle a wider range of vegetation & meat

Stephanie BD @StephLikesBooks

I'd have invisibility :) Because if they can't see you, they wouldn't attack you right?

Caroline  Fielding @CazApr1

my skill – to make anything edible & taste good…piece of brick anyone? Everyone would want to be in my bunker

@dogwithnobrain

I would want the power of chameleon skin. TO be able to disappear into my surroundings would probably save me!

Midnight Book Thief @NightBookThief

I want to be able to create my own minions! My army will be cute(lowering the guard of enemies) but viscious!

Well, I was thinking of something along the lines of Despicable Me- Small but terrible! :D http://pic.twitter.com/Qu6l8nlX

All winners will be contacted directly by AtomBooks and will receive a prize copy of Under the Never Sky.

Congratulations on your excellent survival ideas!  Veronica and Team Atom loved it!  And to get a teaser of Under the Never Sky, click on the link to read an extract.

Middle Earth. Narnia. Hogwarts.

When I read, I want to disappear into worlds that are vastly different from mine and that push the boundaries of my imagination. I know I love a book when I look up from its pages, utterly surprised to see my own home, instead of The Shire, Diagon Alley, or the door to a magical wardrobe.

Fantastic settings transport me, but characters are what bring stories to life. Their quests for knowledge, revenge, are what keep me reading late, aching over their failures, and cheering for their victories.

Under the Never Sky is the story of teenagers from radically different worlds. Aria is a Dweller in a futuristic enclosed city. She spends most of her time in the comfort of virtual landscapes. An Outsider in a harsh environment, Peregrine’s life is primitive, dangerous and sensory. When circumstances throw them together, Aria and Perry—opposites in nearly every way—must learn to accept one another to survive. Their journey is one of discovery, adventure and romance.

My greatest hope is that—upon turning the last page—you look up and blink, bewildered by the return to your world. 

You can see more from Veronica on twitter and her website. Read about the book here.

In Under the Never Sky, Aria finds herself in an unfamiliar wasteland, having to defend herself against the harsh elements and other threatening forces. Luckily, she meets the swoon-worthy Perry (seriously, ladies and gentlemen, *phwoar*) whose awesome savage skills help them to survive in the apocalyptic environment.

SO, we want to know what savage skill or unusual power you would want to help you survive the #atomapocalypse!

Examples from Team Atom include:

@madeleinefeeny

Being able to shed my skin like a snake so I could slither my way across the deserts #atomapocalypse

@roshi42

Be able to speak robot so that they spare me when they rise against us! #atomapocalypse

Got it? Of course you have! So from 9-5 today join in with the #atomapocalypse and author @V_Rossibooks, who will be assessing your savage skills throughout the day, will be choosing her favourite 5 entries to win copies of the book.

The competition is open to residents of the UK only – terms and conditions are here!

Fancy reading an extract to inspire you? Find it here.

No related posts.

　CHAPTER 1

They called the world beyond the walls of the Pod "the Death Shop." A million ways to die out there. Aria never thought she’d get so close.

She bit her lip as she stared at the heavy steel door in front of her. A display screen read AGRICULTURE 6-NO ENTRYin flashing red letters.

Ag 6 was just a service dome, Aria told herself. Dozens of domes supplied Reverie with food, water, oxygen—all the things an enclosed city needed. Ag 6 had been damaged in a recent storm, but supposedly the damage was minor. Supposedly.

"Maybe we should turn back," Paisley said. She stood beside Aria in the airlock chamber, nervously twisting a strand of her long red hair.

The three boys crouched at the control board by the door, jamming the signal so they could exit without triggering an alarm. Aria tried to ignore their steady bickering.

"Come on, Paisley. What’s the worst that could happen?"

Aria meant it as a joke, but her voice sounded too high so she tacked on a laugh. That came out sounding mildly hysterical.

"What could happen in a damaged dome?" Paisley counted on her slender fingers. "Our skin could rot off. We could get locked out. An Aether storm could turn us into human bacon. Then the cannibals could eat us for breakfast."

"It’s just another part of Reverie," Aria said.

"An off-limits part."

"Pais, you don’t have to go."

"Neither do you," Paisley said, but she was wrong.

For the past five days, Aria had worried constantly about her mother. Why hadn’t she been in touch? Lumina had never missed one of their daily visits, no matter how engrossed she was in her medical research. If Aria wanted answers, she needed to get into that dome.

"For the hundredth—wait, thousandth—time, Ag 6 is safe," Soren said without turning from the control board. "You think I want to die tonight?"

He had a point. Soren loved himself too much to risk his own life. Aria’s gaze rested on his muscled back. Soren was the son of Reverie’s Director of Security. He had the kind of flesh that only came with privilege. He even had a tan, a ridiculous upgrade considering none of them had ever seen the sun. He was also a genius at cracking codes.

Bane and Echo watched at his side. The brothers followed Soren everywhere. He usually had hundreds of followers, but that was in the Realms. Tonight just five of them shared the cramped airlock chamber. Just five of them breaking the law.

Soren straightened, flashing a cocky smile. "I’m going to have to talk to my father about his security protocols."

"You did it?" Aria asked.

Soren shrugged. "Was there ever a doubt? Now for the best part. Time to turn off."

"Wait," Paisley said. "I thought you were just going to jam our Smarteyes."

"I’ve been jamming them but that won’t give us enough time. We need to turn off."

Aria brushed a finger over her Smarteye. She had always worn the clear device over her left eye and it was always on. The Eye took them to the Realms, the virtual spaces where they spent most of their time.

"Caleb will kill us if we’re not back soon," said Paisley.

Aria rolled her eyes. "Your brother and his theme nights." She usually cruised the Realms with Paisley and her older brother, Caleb, from their favorite spot in the 2nd Gen Lounge. For the past month, Caleb had planned their nights around themes. Tonight’s theme, "Feeding Friend-zies," began in a Roman Realm where they’d feasted on roasted boar and lobster ragout. Then they’d cruised to a Minotaur feeding in a Mythology Realm. "I’m just glad we left before the piranhas."

Thanks to her Smarteye, Aria had kept daily visits with her mother, who had followed her research to Bliss, another Pod hundreds of miles away. The distance had never mattered until five days ago, when the link with Bliss broke.

"How long are we planning to stay out there?" Aria asked. She only needed a few minutes alone with Soren. Just long enough to ask him about Bliss.

A grin broke over Bane’s face. "Long enough to party in the real!"

Echo pushed his hair out of his eyes. "Long enough to party in the flesh!"

Echo’s actual name was Theo but few people remembered it. His nickname suited him too well.

"We can shut off for one hour." Soren winked at her. "But don’t worry, I’ll turn you on later."

Aria made herself laugh, smoky and flirtatious. "You better."

Paisley shot her a suspicious look. She didn’t know Aria’s plan. Something had happened to Bliss, and Aria knew Soren could get the information from his father.

Soren shifted his thick shoulders like a boxer stepping into a ring. "Here we go, Glitches. Hold on to your pants. We’re shutting off in three, two—"

Aria startled at a shrill ringing that came from deep within her ears. A red wall crashed over her field of vision. Hot needles of pain stabbed into her left eye and then spread over her scalp. They gathered at the base of her skull and then shot down her spine, exploding through her limbs. She heard one of the boys swear stiffly with relief. The red wall vanished as quickly as it had come.

She blinked a few times, disoriented. The icons for her favorite Realms had disappeared. The messages in the queue and the news crawl in the lower part of her Smartscreen were gone as well, leaving only the airlock door, which appeared dull, filtered through a soft film. She looked down at her gray boots. Middle Gray. A shade that covered nearly every surface in Reverie. How could gray seem less vibrant?

A sense of loneliness crept over her despite being in the crowded little chamber. She couldn’t believe people lived this way once, with nothing but the real. Savages on the outside still lived this way.

"It worked," Soren said. "We’re off! We’re strictly meat!"

Bane hopped up and down. "We’re like the Savages!"

"We’re Savages!" Echo yelled. "We’re Outsiders!"

Paisley kept blinking over and over. Aria wanted to reassure her, but she couldn’t concentrate with Bane and Echo blasting around in the small space.

Soren spun a manual release bar on the door. The chamber depressurized with a quick hiss and a rush of cool air. Aria looked down, stunned to see Paisley’s hand clasped to hers. She had only a second to absorb the fact that she hadn’t touched anyone in months, since her mother left, before Soren slid the door open.

"Freedom at last," he said, and then stepped into the darkness.

In the shaft of light that spilled out of the airlock chamber, she saw the same smooth floors that ran everywhere in Reverie, but these were coated with a layer of dust. Soren’s footprints stamped a trail into the gloom.

What if the dome wasn’t secure? What if Ag 6 crawled with outside dangers? A million deaths in the Death Shop. A million diseases might be swimming in the air rushing past her cheeks. Inhaling suddenly felt like suicide.

Aria heard beeps from a keypad coming from Soren’s direction. Tracks of lights flickered on with a series of loud clicks. A cavernous space appeared. Farming rows stretched back as even as stripes. High above, pipes and beams crisscrossed the ceiling. She saw no gaping hole or other signs of wreckage. With its dirty floors and solemn quiet, the dome simply looked neglected.

Soren jumped in front of the doorway, bracing the frame. "Blame me if this turns out to be the greatest night of your life."

The food grew from waist-high plastic mounds. Row after row of decaying fruits and vegetables spread out around her in endless lines. Like everything in the Pod, they were genetically designed for efficiency. They had no leaves, and needed no soil and little water to grow.

Aria plucked a withered peach, cringing at how easily she’d bruised the soft flesh. In the Realms food still grew, or pretended to grow virtually, on farms with red barns and fields under sunny skies. She remembered the latest Smarteye slogan, Better than Real. It was true in this case. The real food in Ag 6 looked like old people before aging-reversal treatments.

The boys spent the first ten minutes chasing each other down the aisles and leaping over the farming rows. That turned into a game Soren dubbed "Rotball," which consisted of pegging one another with produce. Aria played for a while, but Soren kept aiming for her and he threw too hard.

She took cover with Paisley, ducking behind a row as Soren changed the game again. He lined Bane and Echo against the wall execution-style and then fired grapefruits at the brothers, who just stood there laughing.

"No more citrus!" Bane yelled. "We’ll talk!"

Echo put his hands up like Bane. "We give, Fruit Reaper! We’ll talk!"

People always did what Soren wanted. He had priority in all the best Realms. He even had a Realm named after him, SOREN 18. Soren’s father created it for his eighteenth birthday a month ago. Tilted Green Bottles played a special concert. During the last song, the stadium flooded with seawater. Everyone had transformed into mermaids and mermen. Even in the Realms, where anything was possible, that party had been spectacular. It had set off the underwater concert craze. Soren had made caudal fins sexy.

Aria rarely meshed with him after school hours. Soren ruled the sports and combat Realms. Places where people could compete and be ranked. She normally kept to art and music Realms with Paisley and Caleb.

"Look at this messy thing," Paisley said, rubbing at an orange smear on her pants. "It won’t go away."

"It’s called a stain," Aria said.

"What’s the point of stains?"

"There isn’t any. That’s why we don’t have them in the Realms." Aria studied her best friend. Paisley wore a pinched expression, her brow overlapping the edge of her Smarteye. "Are you all right?"

Paisley waved her fingers in front of her Eye. "I hate this. Everything’s missing , you know? Where is everyone? And why do I sound so pseudo?"

"We all do. Like we swallowed megaphones."

Paisley lifted an eyebrow. "A what?"

"A cone people used to make their voices louder. Before microphones."

"Sounds mega-regress," Paisley said. She scooted around, squaring her shoulders to Aria. "Are you going to tell me what’s going on? Why are we with Soren?"

Now that they were shut off, Aria realized she could tell Paisley her reason for flirting with him. "I need to find out about Lumina. I know Soren can get information from his father. He might already know something."

Paisley’s expression softened. "The link is probably just down. You’ll hear from her soon."

"The link has only dropped for a few hours before. Never for this long."

Paisley sighed, leaning back against the plastic mound. "I couldn’t believe it when you sang to him the other night. And you should’ve seen Caleb. He thought you’d broken into your mother’s medicines."

Aria smiled. She usually kept her voice private, something strictly between herself and her mother. But a few nights ago, she made herself sing a sultry ballad to Soren in a Cabaret Realm. In minutes that Realm had reached full capacity, with hundreds of people waiting to hear her sing again. Aria had left. And just as she’d hoped, Soren had been chasing her since. When he’d proposed the idea for tonight, she’d jumped at the opportunity.

"I had to get him interested." She flicked a seed off her knee. "I’ll talk to him as soon as he calls off the fruit war. Then we’ll get out of here."

"Let’s get him to stop now. We’ll tell him we’re bored . . . which we are."

"No, Pais," Aria said. Soren wasn’t one to push into anything. "I’ll handle it."

Soren leaped on top of the farming row in front of them, making them both jump. He held an avocado, his arm cocked back. His grays were covered in blotches of juice and pulp. "What’s wrong? Why are you both just sitting here?"

"We’re bored with Rotball," Paisley said.

Aria winced, waiting for Soren’s reaction. He crossed his arms, his jaw working side to side as he stared down at them.

"Maybe you should leave then. Wait. I almost forgot. You can’t leave. Guess you’ll have to stay bored, Paisley."

Aria glanced at the airlock door. When had he closed it? She realized he had all the codes for the door and for resetting their Smarteyes. "You can’t trap us in here, Soren."

"Actions precede reactions."

"What’s he talking about?" Paisley asked.

"Soren! Get over here," Bane called. "You need to see this!"

"Ladies. I’m needed elsewhere."

He tossed the avocado into the air before he jogged away. Aria caught it without thinking. It popped open in her hand, becoming a slick green mess.

"He means we’re too late, Pais. He already locked us out."

Aria checked the airlock door anyway. The panel didn’t respond. She stared at the red emergency switch. It was wired directly to the mainframe. If she hit it, Reverie Guardians would come to help them. But then they’d also be punished for breaking out and probably have their privileges in the Realms docked. And she’d lose any chance to speak with Soren about her mother.

"We’ll stay a little longer. They’ll have to go back soon."

Paisley pulled her hair over one shoulder. "All right. But can I hold your hand again? It feels more like being in the Realms."

Aria stared at her best friend’s extended hand. Paisley’s fingers were twitching slightly. She took her hand, but fought the urge to pull away as they walked to the far end of the dome together. There, the three boys stepped through a door Aria hadn’t noticed before. Another set of lights clicked on. For a moment, she wondered if her Smarteye had reactivated and she was actually seeing a Realm. A forest loomed in front of them, beautiful and green. Then she looked up, seeing the familiar white ceiling above the treetops, run through by a maze of lights and pipes. It was a huge terrarium, she realized.

"I found it," Bane said. "How champ am I?"

Echo jerked his head to the side, his shaggy hair shifting out of his eyes. "Champ, man. It’s unreal. I mean, it’s real. Zap, you know what I mean."

They both looked at Soren. "Perfect," he said, his gaze intent. He pulled off his shirt, tossed it aside, and ran into the woods. In the next moment, Bane and Echo followed.

"We’re not going in, are we?" Paisley asked.

"Not like that."

"Aria, be serious."

"Pais, look at this place." She stepped forward. Rotten fruit was one thing. A forest was a true temptation. "We’ve got to see it."

It was cooler and darker under the trees. Aria ran her free hand over the trunks, feeling the rough textures. Pseudo-dark didn’t grip like it might bite into her skin. She crushed a dry leaf in her palm, creating sharp crumbs. She stared at the patterns of leaves and branches above, imagining that if the boys quieted down, she might be able to hear the trees breathe.

Aria kept track of Soren as they headed deeper into the woods, looking for an opportunity to speak to him, while trying to ignore the moist warmth of Paisley’s hand. She and Paisley had held hands before in the Realms, where touching happened. But it felt softer there, unlike the constricting grip she felt now.

The boys were chasing one another through the woods. They’d found sticks, which they carried as spears, and they’d rubbed dirt on their faces and chests. They were pretending to be Savages, like the ones that lived on the outside.

"Soren!" Aria called as he darted past. He paused, spear in hand, and hissed at her. She jerked back. Soren laughed at her and ran off.

Paisley pulled her to a stop. "They’re scaring me."

"I know. They’re always massive scary."

"Not the boys. The trees. It feels like they’re going to fall on us."

Aria looked up. As different as these woods felt, she hadn’t thought of that. "All right. We’ll go wait by the airlock," she said, and began to backtrack. A few minutes later, she realized they’d come to a clearing they had already passed. They were lost in the woods. She almost laughed at how unbelievable it was. She let go of Paisley’s hand and rubbed her palm against her pants.

"We’re going in circles. Let’s wait here until the boys come by. Don’t worry, Pais. It’s still Reverie. See?" She pointed up through the leaves at the ceiling and then wished she hadn’t. The lights above dimmed, flickered for a moment, and then came back.

"Tell me that didn’t just happen," Paisley said.

"We’re leaving. This was a stupid idea." Was this the part of Ag 6 that had taken the damage?

"Bane! Get over here!" Soren yelled. Aria spun, catching a glimpse of his tanned torso jogging through the trees. This was her chance. She could talk to him now if she hurried. If she left Paisley there alone.

Paisley gave her a shaky smile. "Aria, go. Talk to him. But hurry back."

"I promise."

Soren was hoisting a stack of branches into his arms when she found him.

"We’re going to make fire," he said.

Aria froze. "You’re kidding. You’re not really . . . right?"

"We’re Outsiders. Outsiders have fires."

"But we’re still inside. You can’t, Soren. This isn’t a Realm."

"Exactly. This is our chance to see the real thing."

"Soren, it’s forbidden." Fire in the Realms was a rippling orange and yellow light that gave off a gentle warmth. But she knew from years of Pod safety drills that real fire must be different. "You could contaminate our air. You could burn down Reverie—"

She broke off as Soren stepped closer. Water beaded on his forehead. It cut clear trails through the mud on his face and chest. He was sweating. She’d never seen sweat before.

He leaned in. "I can do anything I want in here. Anything."

"I know you can. We all can. Right?"

Soren paused. "Right."

This was it. Her opportunity. She chose her words carefully. "You know things, don’t you? Like the codes that got us here. . . . Things we’re not supposed to know?"

"Of course I do."

Aria smiled and slipped around the branches in his arms. She rolled up onto her toes, inviting him to whisper. "Well, tell me a secret. Tell me something we’re not supposed to know."

"Like what?"

The lights flickered again. Aria’s heart gave a lurch. "Tell me what’s going on with Bliss," she said, making her best attempt at sounding casual. Soren stepped back. He shook his head slowly, his eyes narrowing. "You want to know about your mother, don’t you? Is that why you came here? You’ve been playing me?"

Aria couldn’t lie anymore. "Just tell me why the link is still down. I need to know if she’s all right."

Soren’s gaze dropped to her mouth. "I might let you persuade me later," he said. Then he pushed his shoulders back, shifting the branches higher. "Right now I’m discovering fire."

Aria hurried back to the clearing for Paisley. She found Bane and Echo there as well. The brothers were building up a pile of branches and leaves at the center. Paisley rushed over as soon as she saw Aria.

"They’ve been doing this since you left. They’re trying to make fire."

"I know. Let’s go." Six thousand people lived in Reverie. She couldn’t let Soren risk everything. Aria heard the clatter of sticks falling just before something struck her shoulder. She cried out as Soren spun her to face him.

"No one’s leaving. I thought I made that clear."

She stared at the hand on her shoulder, her legs softening beneath her. "Let go of me, Soren. We’re not getting involved."

"Too late." His fingers dug into her. She gasped at the shock wave of pain that ran down her arm. Bane dropped the large branch he’d been dragging and looked over. Echo stopped midstride, his eyes wide, wild. The lights shone off their skin. They were sweating too.

"If you leave," Soren said, "I’ll tell my father this was your idea. With our Smarteyes shut off, it’s your word against mine. Who do you think he’ll believe?"

"You’re insane."

Soren let her go. "Shut up and sit down." He grinned. "And enjoy the show."

Aria sat with Paisley at the edge of the tree line and fought the urge to rub her throbbing shoulder. In the Realms, falling off a horse hurt. Twisting an ankle did too. But pain was just an effect, sprinkled in to boost the thrill. They couldn’t actually get hurt in the Realms. This felt different. Like there was no limit to the pain. Like it could go on forever.

Bane and Echo made one trip after another into the woods, bringing back armfuls of branches and leaves. Soren directed them to place more here, more there, as sweat dripped off his nose. Aria eyed the lights. At least they were holding steady.

She couldn’t believe she’d let herself—and Paisley—get into this situation. She’d known going into Ag 6 meant risk, but she hadn’t expected this. She had never wanted to be part of Soren’s clique, though he’d always interested her. Aria liked looking for the fissures in his image. The way he watched people when they laughed, like he didn’t understand laughter. The way he curled his upper lip after he said something he thought particularly clever. The way he glanced at her occasionally, like he knew she wasn’t convinced.

Now she realized what had intrigued her. Through those fissures, she’d seen glimpses of someone else. And out here, without Reverie Guardians watching, he was free to be himself.

"I’m going to get us out of here," she whispered.

Tears pooled in Paisley’s bare eye. "Shhh. He’ll hear you."

Aria noticed the brittle crackle of the leaves beneath her and wondered when the trees had last been watered. She watched the pile grow one foot high, then two. Finally, with the pile at nearly three feet, Soren declared it ready.

He reached into his boot and brought out a battery pack and some wire, handing them to Bane.

Aria couldn’t believe what she was seeing. "You planned this? You came here to make fire?"

Soren smiled at her, his lip curling. "I’ve got other things in mind too."

Aria sucked in a breath. He had to be kidding. He was just trying to scare her because she’d led him on, but she’d had no choice.

The boys huddled together as Soren muttered, "Try it like this," and "Other end, stupid," and "Just let me do it," until they jumped back, away from the flame that flickered up from the leaves.

"Oh, zap!" they yelled in perfect unison. "Fire!"

 

　

CHAPTER 2

 

Magic.

That was the word that came to Aria’s mind. An old word, from a time when illusions still mystified people. Before the Realms made magic common.

She moved closer, drawn by the gold and amber tones in the flame. By the way it changed shape constantly. The smoke was richer than anything she had ever smelled. It tightened the skin along her arms. Then she saw how the burning leaves curled and blackened and disappeared.

This was wrong.

Aria looked up. Soren had frozen in place, his eyes wide. He looked bewitched, just as Paisley and the brothers did. Like they were seeing the fire without really seeing it.

"That’s enough," she said. "We should turn it off . . . or get water or something." No one moved. "Soren, it’s starting to spread."

"Let’s give it more."

"More? Trees are made of wood. It’ll spread to the trees!"

Echo and Bane ran off before she’d finished speaking.

Paisley grabbed her sleeve, pulling her away from the burning stack. "Aria, stop or he’ll hurt you again."

"This whole place is going to burn if we don’t do something."

She glanced back. Soren stood too close to the fire. The flames had nearly reached his height. The fire made sounds now, pops and crackles over a dull roar. "Get sticks!" he yelled at the brothers. "The sticks make it stronger."

Aria didn’t know what to do. When she thought of stopping them the ache in her shoulder flared, warning her of what might happen again. Echo and Bane ran up with armfuls of branches. They threw them onto the fire, sending sparks into the trees. A surge of hot air blew past her cheeks.

"We’re going to run, Paisley," she whispered. "Ready . . .go."

For the third time that night, Aria grasped Paisley’s hand. She couldn’t let Paisley fall behind. She wove through the trees, her legs churning, as she tried to keep them on a straight course. She didn’t know when the boys started chasing them, but she heard Soren behind her.

"Find them!" he yelled. "Spread out!"

Then Aria heard a loud wailing sound that brought her to a halt. Soren was howling like a wolf. Paisley’s hand clamped over her mouth, stifling a sob. Bane and Echo joined in, filling the woods with wild, keening cries. What was happening to them? Aria broke into a run again, tugging Paisley so hard that she stumbled.

"Come on, Paisley! We’re close!" They had to be near the door leading back to the farming dome. When they reached it, she’d trip the emergency alarm. Then they’d hide until Guardians came. The lights overhead flickered again. This time they didn’t come back. Darkness slammed into Aria like something solid. She went rigid. Paisley rammed into her back and cried out. They tumbled blindly to the ground, their limbs crashing together. Aria scrambled upright, blinking hard as she tried to orient herself. Eyes opened or closed, what she saw didn’t change.

Paisley’s fingers fluttered over her face. "Aria! Is it you?"

"Yes, it’s me," she whispered. "Quiet or they’ll hear us!"

"Bring the fire!" Soren yelled. "Get some fire so we can see!"

"What are they going to do to us?" Paisley asked.

"I don’t know. But I won’t let them get close enough to find out."

Paisley tensed at her side. "Do you see that?"

She did. A torch wove toward them from the distance. Aria recognized the solid tromp of Soren’s stride. He was farther than she expected, but she realized it didn’t matter. She and Paisley couldn’t move without crawling and feeling along in front of them. Even if they knew which way to go, moving a few feet would hardly help. A second flame appeared.

Aria groped for a rock or a stick. Leaves disintegrated in her hands. She smothered a cough against her sleeve. Every breath tightened her lungs more. She’d been worried about Soren and the fire. Now she realized the smoke might pose the worst danger.

The torches bobbed across the darkness, drawing closer. She wished her mother had never left. She wished she’d never sung to Soren. But wishing wasn’t going to get her anywhere. There had to be something she could do. She turned her focus inward. Maybe she could reset her Smarteye and call for help. She reached for commands as she always had. Even in her mind, she felt as though she were fumbling in the dark. How did you restart something that had never been turned off?

It didn’t help her concentration to see the torches closing in, or the fire burning brighter and louder, or to feel Paisley quivering against her side. But she had no other hope. Finally she felt a tap in the depths of her brain. A word appeared on her Smartscreen, blue letters floating against the smoldering woods.

RESTART?

Yes! she commanded.

Aria tensed as hot nails dragged across her skull and down her spine. She gasped in relief as a grid of icons appeared. She was back on, but everything looked strange. All the buttons on her interface were generic and in the wrong places. And what was that? She saw a message icon on her screen labeled "Songbird," her mother’s nickname for her. Lumina had sent a message! But the file was stored locally and wouldn’t help her now. She needed to reach someone. Aria tried contacting Lumina directly. CONNECTION FAILUREflashed on her screen, followed by an error number. She tried Caleb and the next ten friends who came to mind. Nothing went through. She wasn’t linked to the Realms. She made a final attempt. Maybe her Eye was still recording.

REVIEW, she commanded.

Paisley’s face appeared in the playback square on the upper left of her Smartscreen. Paisley was hardly visible, just the contours of her frightened face and the glint of the fire catching on her Smarteye. Behind her a glowing cloud of smoke seeped closer. "They’re coming!" Paisley said in a frantic whisper, and the recording ended.

Aria commanded her Eye to record again. Whatever happened, whatever Soren and the brothers did, she’d have proof.

The lights flashed back on. Squinting at the brightness, Aria saw Soren scanning the area, Bane and Echo at his side like a pack of wolves. Their eyes flared as they spotted her and Paisley. She jumped to her feet, pulling Paisley up once more. Aria ran, holding tight to Paisley, tripping over roots and pushing through branches that snagged her hair. The boys’ shouts were loud, rumbling in Aria’s ears. Their feet pounded right behind her.

Paisley’s hand tore from Aria’s grip. Aria spun as she fell to the ground. Paisley’s hair splayed over the leaves. She reached for Aria, crying out. Soren lay half on top of her, his arms wrapped around her legs. Before Aria could think, she slammed her foot into Soren’s head. He grunted and fell back. Paisley twisted away but Soren lunged for her again.

"Let her go!" Aria stepped toward him, but he was ready for her this time. His hand shot out, clamping onto Aria’s ankle.

"Run, Paisley!" Aria yelled. She struggled to get free but Soren wouldn’t let go. He rose to his feet and grabbed on to her forearm. Leaves and dirt stuck to his face and chest. Behind him, smoke tumbled through the trees in gray waves, moving slow and fast at the same time. Aria looked down. Soren’s hand was twice the size of hers, rounded with muscle like the rest of him.

"Can’t you feel it, Aria?"

"Feel what?"

"This." He squeezed her arm so tight she cried out. "Everything." His eyes darted around, not settling anywhere.

"Don’t, Soren. Please."

Bane ran up, holding a torch and panting for breath.

"Help, Bane!" she cried. He didn’t even look at her.

"Go get Paisley," Soren said, and Bane was gone. "Just you and me now," he said, stroking a hand through her hair.

"Don’t touch me. I’m recording this. If you hurt me, everyone will see it!"

She hit the ground before she realized what had happened. His weight crushed her, driving the air out of her lungs. He glared down at her as she gasped, struggling to draw a breath. Then his focus moved to her left eye. Aria knew what he was going to do but her arms were trapped, squeezed between his thighs. She closed her eyes and screamed as his fingers dug into her skin, prying up the edges of her Smarteye. Aria’s head snapped forward and then slammed back to the ground.

Pain. Like her brain had been torn out. Above her, Soren’s face looked red and bleary. Warmth spread down her cheek and pooled in her ear. The pain lessened and became pulses, beating in time with her heart.

"You’re crazy," someone with her voice slurred.

Soren’s fingers clamped around her neck. "This is real. Tell me you feel it."

Aria still couldn’t pull in enough air. Spears of pain shot into her eyes. She was fading, powering off like her Smarteye. Then Soren looked up—away from her—and his grip loosened. He cursed and then his smothering weight lifted.

Aria pushed herself to her knees, gritting her teeth at the piercing shriek that erupted in her ears. She couldn’t see. She swiped at her eyes to clear the murkiness, her legs quaking as she rose to her feet. Framed against the roaring blaze, she saw a stranger step into the clearing. He was shirtless, but there was no mistaking him for Bane or Echo.

He was a real Savage.

The Outsider’s torso was almost as dark as his leather pants, his hair a blond Medusa’s snarl. Tattoos coiled around his arms. He had the reflective eyes of an animal. They were bare eyes, both.

The long knife at his side flashed with firelight as he came forward.

Don't forget to come back tomorrow for our fantastic launch competition! If you'd like more info on the book and author, find it on Veronica's site here.

The second House of Night Novella from P.C. and Kristin Cast is out today! Lenobia's Vow tells the story of Zoey's favourite professor and the House of Night's powerful horse mistress; finally we get to see how 16-year-old Lenobia became a vampyre!

In 1788, Lenobia's mother placed her on a ship bound to New Orleans. An evil bishop, skilled in Dark magic, is making the same journey. His appetite for beautiful young women forces Lenobia to remain hidden, but she secretly visits the ship's stables, where a handsome young man and his horses capture her attention.

Can they make it to the New World before the bishop discovers her true identity and a powerful evil breaks loose? And will Lenobia follow her heart, even if it puts lives at risk?

Sounds amazing, doesn't it?! You can get your hands on the book today, and because we're really very nice we've got a few teasers for you below…

_________________________

Her mother glanced around them, then grabbed her daughter’s hand and, in a low, tight voice said, “You must trust me and do exactly as I say.”

“Of-of course I trust you, Mother,” Lenobia said, frightened by the wild look in her mother’s eyes.

_________________________

"I have always loved you, Lenobia. You are the best, the finest thing in my life. I will think of you and miss you every day, for as long as I live.”

“No, Maman,” Lenobia sobbed. “I cannot say good-bye to you. I cannot do this.”

“You will do this for me. You will live the life I could not give you. Be brave, my beautiful child. Remember who you are.”

“How do I remember who I am if I am pretending to be someone else?” Lenobia cried. Elizabeth stepped back and gently wiped the wetness from her daughter’s cheeks. “You will remember here.” Once more, her mother pressed the palm of her hand against Lenobia’s chest over her heart. “You shall stay true to me, and to yourself, here. In your heart you will always know, always remember. As in mine, I will always know, always remember you.”

_________________________

Lenobia stared at the ship in awe. All across the top of the hull was a band of blue on which intricate gold filigree was painted that reminded her of flowers and ivy.  She could see orange and black and yellow decorating other parts of the hull, as well as the deck. And facing her was the figurehead of a goddess, arms outstretched, gown flowing fiercely in carved and captured wind, she was helmeted as if for war. Lenobia had no idea why, but the sight of the goddess had her breath catching and her heart fluttering.

_________________________

To mark the launch of Robin Wasserman's first book with Atom, the compulsive thriller causing ripples in the blogosphere, the author introduces us personally to The Book of Blood and Shadow

If you’re reading this, it means that—despite my persistent doubts to the contrary— the 19th of January has actually arrived, and with it, The Book of Blood and Shadow!!! As of right now, the book is officially completed, bound, and shelved for your reading pleasure. And I am turning cartwheels.

I really thought this day would never arrive. (Predictions of imminent apocalypse didn’t help.) This book has been nearly three years in the making and for a person with my quantities of patience (or lack thereof) that might as well have been forever.

They (that omniscient they who always seem so certain of how to make your book a hit) say that you should also claim your newest book is your favorite. But in this case it’s actually true.

I’ve never loved a book of mine like I do The Book of Blood and Shadow – maybe because it was harder to write, took longer to write, required more of me to write than anything else.  Or maybe (and this is going to sound extremely narcissistic, so let’s be honest, It’s probably true) it’s because there’s more of me in this book than in any other.

People often ask whether writers’ books are autobiographical and we often—with varying levels of alacrity and volume—tell them no. No way, no how, not at all, not what you’re thinking, Mom. (Well, maybe that last one’s just me.) But when you get down to it, I think every book you write—well, let’s say, every book I write—is about me in some way or another. I just usually don’t realize it until I’m at the end.

I certainly didn’t realize it about this book, since none of the surface details come anywhere close to matching up to my own life. I wasn’t a student at a dinky northeastern prep school, I never did research on an ancient Renaissance text or found myself whisked away to Prague to avenge a murder or save my boyfriend from the shadowy forces of evil. If a centuries-old mystery had come knocking at my door, teenage-me would surely have hid under the bed rather than volunteering to solve it.  And grown-up me would say that seemed like a pretty great idea.

None of these characters are me, not exactly; nothing they do is anything I’ve done. But in a way—an obvious one, I guess, since they jumped out of my head—they’re all me, and it turns out that the reason I had to tell this particular story in this particular way, with these people who now feel as real to me as my non-fictional, non-globe-trotting adventure-hunting friends, has everything to do with my life, what matters to me, and what I believe. So, I guess if you’re the kind of person who’s curious about what writers are like and what they secretly think about the world in their deepest heart of hearts, that’s another mystery this book has to offer—good luck sussing it out!

For the rest of you, who don’t care about me and only want a good story that will keep you up at night and distract you from all the stuff you really should be doing instead, hopefully there’s plenty in there for you, too, including secret societies, ancient codes, globe-crossing treasure hunts, vengeful murders, and more than a little of what I hope is some hot and heartbreaking romance.

So…thank you for reading all the way to the end of this, thank you for reading the book (if you decide to do that), and THANK YOU for being an audience of such passionate readers that people are still letting me write books. Speaking of which, perhaps I’d better stop talking now and go write another one.

The Book of Blood and Shadow is published on the 19th January 2012, £6.99; eBook £7

Atomic: Lesley

Age: 12

Night School actually ended up being a surprisingly good book because when I read the first chapter, I thought that the book would be rather boring and that it would be just about a troubled teenager. But two chapters later, I was hooked! I just could not put it down. Night School is a dark(-ish) fantasy book with a reasonable dollop of romance and I like to think of it like Fallen meets House of Night – just without the angel wings and really cool supernatural powers.

Overall, I really enjoyed this book and as much as I would like to recommend to anyone, I definitely think that it’s a girl book but if you like House of Night and other books like that, certainly give it a go! This book was a fantastic read and I’m hoping that a sequel will follow this book.

Atomic: Ellen

Age: 15

WOW! I WAS WRONG about this book. At first I thought it was going to be another teen monster romance but no. It is now my favourite book of all time!

In my opinion it is literary art, C.J Daughertry kept me guessing right to the end. The plot twists and turns in different directions and you find yourself unsure and at times a little scared for the main character.

There were also times where I melted into my seat at all the spicy romance which was just what I wanted to read. I won't give away any of the plot but I will say that if you love adventure, romance, crime and late nights then definitely read this novel. I read it in about two days and found it nearly impossible to put down. It is totally addictive and leaves you wanting more. I 100% recommend this book for boys and girls to read, oh and girls be prepared to fall in love!

Atomic: Tasha

Age: 15

Night School is C.J. Daugherty’s first novel. As debuts go – it’s quite something!

Allie is a troubled teenager with serious issues. She’s been arrested three times in the last year and her parents have had enough. They’ve sent her to a school that Allie’s never heard of – Cimmeria Academy – where everyone is far from the ordinary.

The story has a slow, confusing start with a lot of questions being asked. Towards the middle the plot gathers pace, as the heroine begins separating the truth from what feels like an endless reel of lies. I felt that the story had great potential, but ended on a cliff-hanger, with many questions unanswered.

Atomic: Talia

Age: 16

Oh, I couldn't wait to read this book when I was offered the chance to read it. I love mystery books so this was right up my street. This book at 453 pages took me about 5 hours to read, as it kept a mainly fast pace and I can't put a book down. We first meet our protagonist Allie – a dysfunctional teenager with a problem – spray painting on her headmaster’s door. The reader – and Allie – is soon chucked into Cimmeria Academy, with the dreamy guys and the twists and turns of the happenings there, especially when… Oops, no spoilers! (Though it burns me up!) There were many a turn that I just didn't expect and some I was left gobsmacked at. Being brutally honest, about 20-30 pages waffled on and I just though "Yawn!" but eventually it picked up again as Daugherty introduced a new plot line with a few new characters. I believe these characters added another dimension of thought to the reader. I would rate this book a good 4* as i believe it is exciting and a mind teaser that happily fits into my already over stuffed bookcase. I leave you with one last thought that when finishing the book I was left totally confused and asking "Where can I get more?"

Atomic: Zakiya

Age: 12

Night School by C.J. Daugherty is a really good book. It has an amazing twist in the middle. 

Also, it's a lovely mix of romance, mystery and horror. 

The way she has written this book is amazing, I love it so much! 

I hope she writes some more books soon! 

Atomic: Josie

Age: 12

This is a good book – I absolutely loved it. It was full of drama, action and romance, there was literally something going on in almost every chapter. Allie discovers new stuff and finds things out about herself that shocks her – like really big things about who she is. At first I thought it would be vampires and stuff like that but it’s really not – just because it doesn't have vampires in though it’s still a totally awesome book! If I saw it in a shop I would definitely get it.  I would say it’s aimed at teens though.

Atomic: Rebecca             

Age: 15

I loved the whole storyline, and I also loved the characters. Without giving too much away there is quite a lot of drama, which I really enjoyed. This is one of the best books I have read in a while, I couldn't put it down, and I would definitely recommend this book to other people! I only have one question, is there or will there be another Night School book?!

[From Team Atom – yes there will be another book! And it’ll definitely be worth the wait :)]

Atomic: Lucy

Age: 13

I loved Night School! I found it interesting, addictive and just awesome!

I enjoyed how it wasn't just romance it had a great deal amount of drama and action also I found it unique and different as I assumed based on the name it had something to do with the supernatural, but it surprised me in a good way.

I like how in the introduction it starts with a bit of excitement not just introducing the character though it does do that as the exciting bit shows off the girl’s rebel side.

I think most people would like this book because it’s got many different sides to it. If you’re a person into romance it has that and if you’re a person into action and murder it has that.

The story always had something going on, there may be danger at a dance or romance in the library, however, it was never dull.

Overall I loved this book and thought it was awesome :D and amazing and I couldn't put it down so I recommend you read it.
 

Atomic: Hannah

Age: 13

Out of all the books I have read in my life so far, this is the best I have read. I was up almost all night reading it, I couldn't put it down! I love all the characters and their personalities, and with the gripping storyline, I just simply couldn't stop reading. I was always saying 'just one more chapter, maybe one more…' It has adventure, mystery and romance all in one excellent book. I think most tween and teenagers who like mysteries would thoroughly enjoy this book, like me. If C. J. Daugherty decides to write a book 2, I can't wait until I get to read it.

Atomic: Ceileidh

Age: 13

This is a really exciting, well written book. I found that it is one of those I just can't put it down kind of book.

Allie, the main character, is a firey haired teenage girl, who I'm sure most people can relate to in some way or another.

After being arrested, again, her parents send her away to boarding school, more specifically, Cimmeria Academy.

Allie soon arrives and is expecting to hate her new school, but soon turns out she has never enjoyed school so much. She quickly makes lots of new friends. She soon finds most of them are keeping a secret, but no-one will tell her about it.

Trouble starts brewing and it all goes horribly wrong….

This book is perfect for those who love thriller/mystery type books!

Happy Reading!

Atomic: Leanne

Age: 15

A really enjoyable read. I really connected with the main character, Allie, from the start. The story was funny, sad, happy and exciting. I didn’t want to put the book down and I was sad when I came to the end of the story! I think that this story is great for teenagers and I loved the fact that the ‘secret’ was not what I first expected!

Atomic: Vicky

Age: 17

I've just finished reading Night School by C.J. Daugherty and I absolutely loved the book. As soon as I picked it up I was hooked, I was more interested in finishing the book than opening my Christmas presents. The only negative thing about the book is that it stopped at 454 pages and I don't know if there will be a sequel. I'm definitely giving this book a special spot on my bookshelf beside my favourite books. I can't wait to hear more from Allie!

[Note from Team Atom – there definitely will be a sequel!]

Em (16), Stephanie (13), Nina (14)

Gemma (14), Grace (14), Shakila (15)

Lesley (12), Ellen (15), Tasha (15)

Talia (16), Zakiya (12), Josie (12)

Rebecca (15), Lucy (13), Hannah (13)

Ceileidh (13), Leanne (15), Vicky (17)

If you'd like to see more about the fabulous author of Night School, head to C.J.'s website by clicking here. And if you'd like to join The Atomics, learn how to here!

Atomic: Gemma

Age: 14

I really enjoyed this novel, I thought that the conflicting relationships between the three leading characters provided a brilliant story line, with the addition of major twists. I couldn't stop reading it. I thought the whole concept of the book was brilliant, and the way that the story concludes, it makes you just want to keep reading. I haven't stopped reading it since. 5/5, I sure suggest that you buy this book, it is AMAZING, I LOVE IT. 

Atomic: Grace

Age: 14

I enjoyed Night School but the book takes a while to get into. The main character, Allie, was a very believable, realistic and fun person so it’s easy to understand and like her. The only thing I didn’t like about the book is you don’t get much information about the Night School what it is and why it is, although the fact that you don’t know much about Night School gives the book a sense of mystery and you want to read on to find out what happens.  All in all the book is a good read and I would recommend it if you like mysteries and fantasies :)

Atomic: Shakila

Age: 15

When I finished reading Night School, the first thought in my head was “WOW!”  If I could describe Night School in one word, it would be incredible. The story of Allie’s life in a mysterious new school keeps you intrigued at the beginning, gripping during the middle and enthralled at the end.

I was gripped to the book from the start. Daugherty creates a roller coaster of twists and turns. And displays the different stories and lives of the characters.

The way Daugherty displays the settings, emotions and the characteristic of the characters makes it much easier to visualise the story in your head. As a reader, you gain an intimate connection with each character and suddenly become aware of their actions and either love or loathe them. I very much shouted and laughed at the book, because of the many obstacles the characters overcome.

A topic that really stood out for me was romance. Allie comes across two mysterious beautiful guys, and the chemistry she experiences is crazy!  I love how Daugherty keeps you guessing on which guy Allie chooses.

This book is also quite relieving as well; since I haven’t read an amazing Y.A book by a British author in quite a while. I almost lost faith in that, until Night School relieved me of my pessimistic behaviour, since it was absolutely epic. It’s also comforting that the book is set in the U.K, and contains traditional British language. Giving us British readers something to recognise and relate to.

Overall, this book will definitely attract young adults who love paranormal books, like Twilight or The House of Night; although the book isn’t based around a paranormal storyline. However, Daugherty adds the action, horror and romance that are found in successful paranormal books which make this book so intriguing.

My only worry is that I will be very frustrated if this book doesn’t become a hit movie in the future!

Atomic: Em

Age: 16

Unlike most books, Night School is not predictable and each chapter comes with a new surprise. Once you start reading, it's hard to put the book down!

The characters are realistic and I found it really easy to picture them just like they were real, it's easy to fall in love with them and hate them just like characters in most best-sellers. I loved the book and I think anyone who likes books such as The House Of Night series will love this.

The ending is gripping and leaves you wanting more. 

I have, and will, recommend this book to anyone!

Atomic: Stephanie

Age: 13

Night School has to be one of the best books I have read, it has so many twists and cliff hangers at the end of chapters it’s hard to put down. Night School is about a girl called Allie whose brother has run away and she is always in trouble so her mum and dad decide to send her to a boarding school that she has never heard of. At first she hates it but then she makes friends and when you think everything is good and you feel happy for her…IT ALL GOES WRONG, lies are spread, friendships are broken, lives are endangered and Allie’s not sure she belongs there. It’s an amazing book, I would recommend it to anyone.

Atomic: Nina

Age: 14

After her brother runs away and she’s arrested for the third time, Allie Sheridan is shipped off to Cimmeria Academy for a new chance. But everything is odd…there are no traces of the twenty first century, and the rules… who knows why some of them are in place? And then there’s the students… filthy rich Sylvain, bad (or maybe good) boy Carter, mysterious Jo and her boyfriend Gabe. Throw in a headmistress with plenty of secrets she’s trying to keep, and a dead girl at the ball, and soon Allie realises that trust is not going to be easy here at Cimmeria.

If you can’t call this mystery, I’m not sure what you can call it. Although the first bit was a bit boring, once we got to see a bit more of the school, I was guessing and wanting to keep going throughout. And some of these things don’t even get resolved. The titular Night School, we don’t ever find out exactly what they are and what they’re doing. I don’t think there are any paranormal elements, but I’m still not sure. 

There’s the standard stock range of boarding-school types, with the bad boy, the rich one, the prefect, the really horrible girl… and they all had their own personalities. Most of them have something to hide, and new things about them all unfold at various parts of the story, adding depth and unpredictability.

The romance in it was actually done well. Kind of. It was good in that it actually moved the plot along, instead of just being a side story that could be removed without affecting the story at all. The romance with Sylvain was rather central to moving along, both for Allie’s development and to a slightly smaller extent, the general plot.

Allie definitely develops a lot. Along with finding things that maybe she should have left alone, she matures and starts understanding that trust is not something that should come easy.

Overall:  4 out of 5 to a great start to a series full of intrigue. I definitely want to read the next book and see how events will unravel.

To celebrate, Atom are running an absolutely amazing competition – to win a conversation with C.J. Daugherty herself!  Night School is Christi's first published novel so we are making this a first-time author special.  One lucky winner will get the opportunity to speak to Christi about her writing career and publication experiences – as well as winning a copy of every book by a debut novelist Atom publishes in 2012!  Including the brilliant Night School.

To enter, simply fill in your details below and we will select a winner at random.  Closing date: 6th February.  And remember to visit Once Upon a Bookcase tomorrow for not one but two blog tour events: an author guest post on the changes Night School went through from first draft to publication, and an interview with the photographer whose work features on the cover.

This competition is open to residents of the UK and Ireland aged over 12 only. If you are under 18 you must get the permission of your parent or guardian to enter. Please read our full terms and conditions here.

CHAPTER ONE

‘Hurry up!’

‘Will you chill out? I’m almost finished.’

Her jaw set, Allie crouched in the dark, painting the last T as Mark knelt beside her holding a torch. Their voices echoed in the empty corridor. The light beam illuminating her work quivered when he laughed.

A sudden snapping sound made them both jump.

Lights flickered above them, then flooded the school hallway.

Two uniforms stood by the door.

Allie dropped the can of paint slowly without taking her finger off the trigger, causing the letter to stretch freakishly down the door of the headmaster’s office to the dirty, linoleum floor.

‘Run.’

As the word left her lips, she was already flying down the wide corridor, the rubber soles of her trainers squeaking hollowly in the emptiness of Brixton Hill School. She didn’t look back to see if Mark was behind her.

She didn’t know where the others were, but if Harry got caught again his dad would kill him. Rounding the corner at speed she turned onto a dark stretch of corridor. At the end of it she saw the green glow of a fire exit sign.

A thrill of power rushed through her as she ran towards freedom. She was going to make it out. She was going to get away with it.

Crashing into the double doors, she shoved hard against the bar that should have freed her.

It didn’t budge. Unbelieving, she shoved again, but the door was locked.

Bloody hell. If I hadn’t just been vandalising the place, she thought, I’d alert the local paper.

Feverishly she scanned the wide corridor. The police were between her and the main entrance. The only exit at this end was locked.

There had to be another way out.

She held her breath to listen. Voices and footsteps heading her way.

Resting her hands on her knees, she let her head drop low between her shoulders. It could not go down this way. Her parents would destroy her. A third arrest in a year? It was bad enough when they made her go to this godforsaken school. Where would they send her now?

She ran to a nearby door.

One, two, three steps.

She tried the handle.

Locked.

Across the hall to another.

One, two, three, four steps.

Locked.

She was now running towards the police. This was crazy.

But the third door opened. A supply closet.

They left the supply closet unlocked but locked empty classrooms? This school is run by idiots.

Slipping in gingerly among the shelves of paper, mop buckets and electrical equipment she couldn’t identify in the gloom, she let the door close behind her and steadied her breathing.

It was black as pitch. She held her hand up in front of her face – right in front of her face – and she couldn’t see it. She knew it was there; she could feel its existence. But not being able to see it was instantly disorienting. Reaching out to steady herself, she gasped as a top-heavy pile of papers began to slip. She struggled to rebalance it without being able to see it.

Outside the door she could hear faint voices; they sounded far away. She just had to wait a few more minutes and they’d be gone. Just a few more minutes.

It was hot, airless.

Stay calm.

She counted her heavy breaths. . . . twelve, thirteen, fourteen. . .

But it was happening. That feeling of being encased in concrete, unable to breathe. Her heart pounding, rising panic burned in her throat.

Please calm down, Allie, she begged herself. Just five minutes and you’ll be safe. The guys’ll never tell.

But it wasn’t working. She felt dizzy; suffocated.

She had to get out.

As sweat streamed down her face and the floor seemed to swing beneath her, she reached for the door handle.

No no no . . . It can’t be.

The inside of the door was completely smooth.

Frantic, she felt the entirety of the impassive door, then the wall around it. Nothing. There was no way to open it from the inside.

She shoved the door, scratched at its edges with her nails, but it would not give. Her breath came harder now.

It was so dark.

Curling her hands into fists, she pounded on the smooth, unyielding door.

‘Help! I can’t breathe. Open the door!’

There was no response.

‘Help me! Please?’

She hated the pleading tone in her own voice. Sobbing now, she put her cheek against the door and gasped for air as she slapped the wood with her hands.

‘Please.’

When the door opened, it did it so suddenly that she fell forward helplessly, straight into the arms of a police officer. He held her at arm’s length, shining a torch into her eyes, taking in the wild hair and tear-streaked cheeks.

He grinned over her head at the other cop. That was when Allie saw Mark, his head down and his cap missing. His arm was firmly in the grip of another officer, who grinned back. 

CHAPTER TWO

Against the constant rumble of a police station on a summer Friday night, Allie heard her father’s voice as clearly as if he were standing in front of her. She stopped twirling her hair and looked anxiously at the door.

‘I can’t tell you how much I appreciate this. I’m very sorry for the bother,’ she heard. The tone in his voice was one she knew quite well: humiliated. By her. She heard another male voice she couldn’t quite make out and then her dad again, ‘Yes, we’re taking steps, and I appreciate your advice. We’ll discuss this and make a decision tomorrow.’

Decision? What kind of decision?

Then the door opened, and her grey eyes met his tired blue ones. She felt her heart twist in her chest just a little. Unshaven and rumpled, he looked older. And very tired.

He handed a few papers to the female officer who barely glanced at them before adding them to her stack of paperwork. She reached into a drawer and pulled out an envelope containing Allie’s things, which she shoved across the desk to Allie’s father. Without looking at either of them she said robotically, ‘You’ve been released into your father’s care. You’re free to go.’

Allie rose stiffly and followed her dad down narrow brightly lit corridors to the front door.

When they were outside in the cool summer air she breathed deeply. Relief at being out of the police station mingled with anxiety about the expression on her father’s face. They walked to the car in silence. From across the street her father unlocked the door of the black Ford and it beeped its incongruously chirpy welcome. When he started the engine, she turned to him earnestly, her eyes filled with explanations.

‘Dad . . . ’

He looked straight ahead, his jaw tense. ‘Alyson. Don’t.’

‘Don’t what?’

‘Don’t talk. Just . . . sit there.’

After that, their journey was silent. And at their house, he got out of the car without a word. Allie scrambled after him, the worried feeling in the pit of her stomach growing.

He didn’t seem angry. He seemed . . . empty.

Allie walked up the stairs and down the hallway, past her brother’s empty room. In the safety of her own bedroom, she studied herself in the mirror. Her shoulder-length, henna-red hair was tangled, black paint was smeared on her left temple and mascara was smudged under her eyes. She smelled of stale sweat and fear. 

‘Well,’ she told her reflection, ‘maybe it could have been worse.’

When she awoke the next day it was nearly noon. Climbing out from under the rumpled duvet, she threw on a pair of jeans and a white vest top. Then she cautiously opened her door.

Silence.

She tiptoed downstairs to the kitchen, where sunshine streamed through the big windows onto clean wooden countertops. Bread had been set out for her with butter that was melting in the heat. A teacup sat by the kettle, ready with a teabag inside.

Despite everything, she really was hungry. She sliced a piece of bread and dropped it into the toaster. She turned the radio on to fill the silence but then, after a moment, switched it off again.

She ate quickly, flipping through the pages of yesterday’s newspaper without really looking at it. Only when she’d finished did she notice the note near the kitchen door.

A–

Back this afternoon. Do NOT leave the house.

–M

Instinctively, she reached for the phone to call Mark, but it wasn’t in its usual place by the fridge.

Leaning against the wooden counter she drummed her fingers, listening to the steady ticking of the big clock above the stove.

Ninety-six ticks.

Or were they tocks?

How do you tell the diff . . . ?

‘Right.’ She straightened and slapped her hand on the pine countertop. ‘Screw this.’

She ran upstairs to her room and yanked open the top drawer of her desk to get her laptop.

The drawer was empty.

She stood still, contemplating the meaning inherent in its absence. Her shoulders slumped just a little.

Her parents did not return until late that afternoon. She’d been waiting anxiously – hopping up to peer through the window every time a car door slammed – but when they finally did come home she adopted an air of disinterest, staying curled up in the big leather chair watching TV with the sound off.

Her mother dropped her handbag in its usual place on the hallway table, and followed her father into the kitchen to help make tea. Through the open door Allie saw her rest a hand reassuringly on her father’s shoulder for just a second before moving to the refrigerator for the milk.

This looks bad.

A few minutes later they were perched side-by-side on the navy blue sofa across from her. Her dad’s hair was neatly combed now, but he had circles under his eyes. Her mother’s expression was calm but her lips were in a tight line.

‘Alyson . . . ’ her father began, then faltered. He rubbed hiseyes wearily.

Her mother took over. ‘We’ve been talking about what we can do to help you.’

Uh-oh.

‘Obviously you’ve not been happy at your current school.’ She was speaking very precisely and slowly. Allie’s eyes darted from one parent to the other. ‘Now that you’ve broken in, set fire to your records and spray-painted “Ross is a twat” on Headmaster Ross’ door, it’s hardly surprising that they’re not very happy with you either.’

Allie chewed on the cuticle of her little finger and fought the urge to giggle nervously. Giggling now really wouldn’t help. ‘This will be the second school to ask us, very politely, to send you somewhere else to study. We’re tired of receiving very polite letters from schools.’

Her father leaned forward and looked Allie in the eye for the first time since he’d picked her up from the police station.

‘We understand that you’re acting out, Alyson,’ he said. ‘We understand that this is how you’ve chosen to deal with everything that’s happened, but we’ve had enough. Graffiti, truancy, vandalism . . . Enough. You’ve made your point.’

Allie opened her mouth to defend herself but her mother shot her a warning look. She pulled her feet up and wrapped her arms around her knees. Now it was her mother’s turn again. ‘Last night, the helpful police liaison officer – who, by the way, knew all about you – suggested we send you to a different school. Out of London. Away from your friends.’

She said the last word with bitter contempt.

‘We made a few calls this morning, and we’ve . . . ’ her mother paused, glancing across at her father almost uncertainly before continuing, ‘we’ve found a place that specialises in teenagers like you . . . ’

Allie flinched.

‘ . . . and today we went to visit it. We’ve spoken to the headmistress . . . ’

‘Who was absolutely lovely,’ her dad interjected.

Her mother ignored him. ‘. . . and she’s agreed to accept you starting this week.’

‘Hang on . . . This week?’ Allie’s voice rose in disbelief. ‘But the summer holiday only started two weeks ago!’

‘You’ll board,’ her father said as if she hadn’t spoken. Allie stared at him, her mouth agape.

Board?

The word reverberated in her head.

They have got to be joking, she told herself.

‘ . . . which will be difficult for us to afford, but we think it’s worthwhile to try and save you from yourself before you throw your whole life away. You’re a juvenile now in the eyes of the law, but you won’t be for long.’ He slapped his hand on the arm of the sofa, and Allie stared at him. ‘You’re sixteen years old, Alyson. This has to stop.’

Allie listened to her heart pound.

Thirteen beats. Fourteen, fifteen . . .

She couldn’t believe how bad this was. It was unbelievably bad. Record-setting levels of badness were happening right now in this room. She leaned forward in the chair.

‘Look, I know I messed up. I feel really, really awful about it.’ She put as much sincerity as she could into her voice. Her mother looked unmoved, so she turned to her father, imploring. ‘But don’t you think you’re overreacting? Dad, this is crazy!’

Allie’s mother glanced again at her father; this time her gaze was imposing. He looked back at Allie sadly and shook his head.

‘It’s too late,’ he said. ‘The decision has been made. You start on Wednesday. Until then no computer, no phone, no iPod. And no leaving this house.’

When her parents stood up it felt like the judge was leaving the courtroom. In the emptiness they left behind, Allie exhaled shakily.

The next few days went by in a blur of confusion and isolation. She was supposed to be packing and getting ready, but mostly she tried to talk her parents out of their crazy plan.

She got nowhere. They barely spoke to her at all.

On Tuesday afternoon, her mother handed her a slim ivory envelope dominated by an elaborate crest in thick black ink and the words: Cimmeria Academy. Below that, ‘Information for New Students’ was beautifully written in curly handwriting.

The two sheets of paper inside appeared to have been written on a typewriter. She wasn’t certain – she’d never actually seen typewritten paper – but the small, square letters each made a noticeable indentation in the thick creamy paper. Each page held only a few paragraphs; the first was a letter from the school’s headmistress, an Isabelle le Fanult. She said she was looking forward to welcoming Allie to the school.

Oh good, Allie thought, chucking the first page of the letter aside. The second page was no more useful. It said her pencils, pens and paper would be supplied by the school. That her uniform would also be supplied. That she should write her initials using a waterproof pen or ‘stitch them’ on all of the clothing she chose to bring with her. That she should bring wellies and a raincoat because, ‘the school campus is large and rural’.

She scanned the rest of the letter looking for the usual ominous mention of ‘school rules’ and sure enough there it was, highlighted in bold:

The full rules for student behaviour will be supplied to you upon your arrival. Please read them and follow them closely. Violations of any school rule will be punished severely.

And just below that, more bad news:

Students are not allowed to leave the school grounds once they arrive without permission from either their parents or the headmistress. Permission will only very rarely be given.

Allie’s hands shook as she picked up the first page from the floor, folded the letter back into the envelope and set it on her desk.

What is this, a school or a prison?

Then she marched downstairs to where her mother was making lunch in the kitchen.

‘I’m calling Mark,’ she announced defiantly, as she picked up the kitchen phone, which magically reappeared whenever her parents were there.

‘Oh are you?’ Her mother set her knife down on the counter.

‘If I’m being sent to jail I have a right to one phone call, don’t I?’ Allie said in tones of righteous indignation. This had all gone too far.

Her mother studied her for a minute, then shrugged and picked the knife up and returned to thinly slicing a tomato.

‘Call him then.’

Allie had to think for a second before dialling. His number was programmed into her mobile so she rarely had to actually remember it.

The phone rang several times. ‘Yo.’ His voice was so reassuringly familiar and normal that for a second Allie thought she might cry.

‘Hey. It’s Allie.’

‘Allie! Bloody hell. Where have you been?’ He sounded as relieved as she felt.

‘In lockdown.’ She glared at her mother’s back. ‘They took my phone away, and my computer. They won’t let me leave the house. How are things with you?’

‘Oh, the usual.’ He laughed. ‘The parentals are pissed off, the school’s very pissed off, but it’ll blow over.’

‘Are they kicking you out?’

‘What? Of school? No. Are they kicking you out?’

‘Allegedly. My parents are sending me away to a prison camp they insist on calling a school. Somewhere in Outer Mongolia.’

‘Seriously?’ He sounded genuinely upset. ‘That sucks! Why are they being so lame? Nobody got hurt. Ross’ll get over it. I’m going to do some community service, apologise to everybody and then it’s back to normal school hell. I can’t believe your parents are being so medieval.’

‘Me neither. Listen, the Medieval Ones say I won’t be able to talk to you once I get to this prison school, but if you want to find me, it’s called Cimmer . . . ’

The line went dead. Allie looked up to see her mother holding the plug, which she had pulled from the wall. Her face was expressionless.

‘That’s enough of that,’ she said, and smoothly lifted the phone from Allie’s hand.

Her mother returned to slicing the tomato as Allie stood stock still, staring at her. Over the course of thirty seconds she felt her face first pale, then redden as she fought back tears. Finally she spun on her heel and stormed out of the room.

‘You. People. Are. Crazy!’ The words started low, but rose to a scream as she mounted the stairs. She slammed the door to her room, and once inside stood in the middle of it, staring around her, bewildered.

She no longer recognised this place as her home.

When Wednesday morning arrived hot and bright, she was surprised to find that she was actually relieved. At least this phase of her punishment was over with.

She stared at her open wardrobe for half an hour trying to decide what to wear. She finally opted for skinny black jeans and a long black vest with the word ‘Trouble’ scrawled across it in sparkly silver. She brushed her bright red hair and left it loose.

Studying herself in the mirror, she thought she looked pale. Scared.

I can do better than this.

Grabbing her liquid eyeliner, she applied a thick black swoosh to her eyelids and then coated her lashes in mascara. Next, she dived under the bed and pulled out a pair of dark red, knee-high Doc Marten boots, lacing them up over her jeans. When she walked downstairs a few minutes later she looked, she thought, like a rock star. Her expression was mutinous.

Her mother looked at her outfit and sighed dramatically but said nothing. Breakfast took place in icy silence, and afterwards her parents left her alone to finish packing. She piled her clothes up on the bed and then sat among them, her head resting on her bent knees, counting her breaths until she felt calm.

When they walked to the car that afternoon, Allie stopped and looked back at their ordinary terraced house, trying to memorise it. It wasn’t much, but it had always been home, with all of the emotional beauty that word implied.

Now it just looked like every other house on the street.

***

You can find out tons more about the book and about C.J at her fabulous blog – click here to visit it. She's also on facebook and twitter.

Happy New Year! First of all, thank you for taking time out of your thrilling New Year’s Day plans (or your post-New Year’s Eve hangover) to read my ramblings and get a sneak peek at the very-soon-to-be-released-but-not-soon-enough-for-me Book of Blood and Shadow.

If you can believe it (I can’t), this book has been with me for the last three New Year’s Eves. New Year’s 2010, I had just started writing it, and had spent the whole Christmas season feverishly putting together a proposal and the first hundred pages so my agent could sell it to a publisher (or so I hoped). I finally finished that on December 31, and then was physically dragged away from my computer and out of town. Little did my friends know I didn’t need a computer to spend the next 48 hours obsessing over whether my agent would like it. (From my email to him: “Here it is…it could be the best thing I’ve ever written. Or the worst. At this point I literally have no idea. Um…enjoy?”) And then, after he did, I wasted the first third of the year obsessing over whether anyone else would.

And by anyone, I mean an editor.

And by obsessing, I mean, driving myself and everyone around me absolutely and completely insane.

I have a great capacity and stamina for this kind of thing.

But then, finally, wonder of wonders, miracle of miracles, the book sold! Which meant I had to write it! Which…threw me into another tailspin of crazy! (As you may have noticed by now, this doesn’t take much.)

After months more of frenzied writing and months more of obsessing, I finally finished and handed my editor The Book of Blood and Shadow, just in time to spend New Year’s 2011 fretting about whether she would like it…not to mention realizing I was going to have to wait another full year before actually seeing it in print.

The wait was maddening, as all waits are, and I still can’t quite believe that I’ve made it through to New Year’s 2012, and now have only four more days to wait until this thing that used to be just a few random ideas scrawled in my tiny dime store notebook becomes a real book, floating around out there in the real world.

This book was a terrifyingly big and terrifyingly new project for me to take on: a globe-trotting crypto-thriller that spanned centuries, a murder mystery, a scavenger hunt, a love story, a brain-teaser, a meditation on choice and belief, and a story about friendship, betrayal, and renewal, all in one. It was:

-my first murder mystery

-my first book set in a foreign country

-my first book requiring months of research and a research trip abroad (to a country where I’d never been, knew no one, and didn’t speak the language)

-my first book with parts set in the past and characters based on historical figures (hence the months of research and the terror about making a mistake)

-my first book written without an outline (which I’ve always seen as jumping off a cliff without a parachute)

It was like nothing I’d ever tried to write before, and I’ll admit, I’m now dying of anticipation to see what the world makes of it. While I wait, I’ll be wandering around the internet on a blog tour, so if you follow my posts this week, you’ll get to hear about the research trip to Prague, the genesis of the idea, the Blood and Shadow playlist, the books I’ve read that shaped its writing, and—since I have a tendency to ramble—plenty more.

If you’re as impatient as I am, though, scroll down to the bottom of this post for an excerpt from the book itself.  I promise I’ll try not to spend New Year’s Day 2012 obsessing about whether you like it.

The next stops on Robin's blog tour will be:

Sunday 1st January 2012
http://www.atombooks.net/ 
Tour launch: Robin introduces the book

Monday 2nd January 2012 
http://www.flutteringbutterflies.com/
Robin discusses the New Year, its blues and resolutions

Tuesday 3rd January 2012
 http://www.heavenhellandpurgatory-bookreviews.com/p/weekly-feature.html  
‘So I Say Thank you for the Books’ author feature

Wednesday 4th January 2012
http://thepewterwolf.blogspot.com
Robin introduces The Book of Blood and Shadow playlist

Thursday 5th January 2012
http://daisychainbookreviews.blogspot.com/
Author post exploring the strange-but-true historical background of the book

Friday 6th January 2012
http://solittletimeforbooks.blogspot.com/ 
Featured on Friday Q&A slot

Saturday 7th January 2012
http://www.overflowinglibrary.com/ 
Bookcase Showcase feature

Sunday 8th January 2012
http://cloverhillbookreviews.blogspot.com/
Author post elaborating Robin’s on the ground research in Prague and how that shaped the story.

The Book of Blood and Shadow

Chapter 1

I should probably start with the blood.  If it bleeds it leads and all that, right? It’s all anyone ever wants to know about, anyway. What did it look like? What did it feel like? Why was it all over my hands? And the mystery blood, all those unaccounted-for antibodies, those faceless corkscrews of DNA—who left them behind?                                                
     But beginning with that night, with the blood, means that Chris will never be anything more than a corpse, bleeding out all over his mother’s travertine marble, Adriane nothing but a dead-eyed head case, rocking and moaning, her clothes soaked in his blood, her face paper white with that slash of red razored into her cheek. If I started there, Max would be nothing but a void. Null space; vacuum and wind.
     Maybe that part would be right.
     But not the rest of it. Because that wasn’t the beginning, any more than it was the end. It was—note the brilliant deductive reasoning at work here—the middle. The center of gravity around which we all spiraled, but none of us could see. The center cannot hold, Max liked to say, back when things were new and quoting poetry seemed a suitably ironic way to declare our love. Things fall apart.
     But things don’t just fall apart. People break them.

The Book of Blood and Shadow by Robin Wasserman will be published by Atom on the 19th January as a paperback original, £6.99; eBook £7

In Treachery, Calla Tor's brother Ansel tells his side of the betrayal depicted in Wolfsbane:

Ansel's world is falling apart. The Nightshade pack led by his parents has been violently destroyed. His sister, Calla, abandoned her little brother, leaving him to answer for her crimes. And the Haldis pack that would have been his future is irreparably broken by Calla's betrayal. Suffering at the hands of the Keepers, Ansel is losing everything he's ever loved. The only chance he has to save himself means an alliance with his tormentors, and repaying Calla in full for her treachery.

We're publishing Treachery as an ebook which you can get for £1.49 (Christmas present to yourself, anyone?) from all the normal places like Waterstones and Amazon.

Bloodrose, book three in the Nightshade world, comes out on 21st February.

Find Andrea on her website, twitter and facebook.

Atomic: Bronwyn

Age: 17

The story is very much real life and could easily happen to people. The chapters are short which is good because it means that you can read a chapter in a short amount of time. The chapter lengths are perfect for people who don't have time to sit down and read and for people who don't read very much.

Atomic: Kerry

Age: 13

“The day the blizzard started, no one knew that it was going to keep snowing for a week.”

A story re-told by Scotty Weems after his near death experience eat Tattawa High School with five others.

This book is different from others in the teen age range. I was getting a little bored with reading supernatural and failing in love but this was completely different and defiantly worked. I liked seeing the world from a 14 year old boy’s point of view.

Scotty is funny and always looking at his friends and other at their reactions and how he talks like you me and other teenager around! He talks about things like I could imagine a teenage boy really thinking and he gets really annoyed at the others, like I would… :P When I was reading I actually got really worried about them and I actually stopped reading and started looked up on the internet about the density of ice and water.

The ending was really good and dramatic and it made me laugh near the end. I was thinking about the book for days and all the endings…

I would definitely recommend the book if you are like me, feed up with vampires and loveee! This book is defiantly worth reading and has a good plot which will make you anxious and want to carry on reading! Plus, it has a really good snow effect at the beginning of each chapter!

Atomic: Polly

Age: 14

 [Note from Team Atom – this review contains some spoilers about the end of the book! Read on if you don’t mind finding out what happens :)]

Trapped is an exciting adventure that follows the lives of seven pupils stuck in Tattawa Regional High School.  Scotty, a jock, Pete, the video game player and Jason, the car enthusiast. The three friends decide to stay after school to work on Jason’s go-kart because of the early closure, due to heavy snow fall.  Scotty and his friends persuade the teachers to let them stay for a bit longer to work on the kart while they wait for Jason’s dad to pick them up.  The snow starts to fall more heavily, unknown to the three boys, affecting the phone lines.  After gaining no signal the three friends head to the gym where four other students and Mr Gossell are waiting for someone collect them.  Les, the school bully, Elijah, a geek and two popular girls, Krista and Julie, along with Scotty and his friends end up stuck at the school all alone after Mr Gossell walks out to get help and possibly died.  The seven students sleep over at the school, thinking the snow would melt and they would leave in the morning, but it doesn’t. They break into classrooms and steal clothes and mats from the gym and food from the canteen.  As the days go on they find themselves having to steal and destroy the school even more, they even set up a fire in one of the classrooms!  The snow just continues falling and the time they’re spending trapped is getting much, much longer. How will they escape or how will they stay alive?

Trapped is a very interesting book and it kept me turning the pages to find out what happens to the seven students. Although it is very disappointing as you never find out if the rest escape from the school.  I guess they do get rescued.   You also never find out what happened to Mr Gossell and the parents coming to pick them up. I think the author may be, or may have been, planning on a sequel but all it really needs is a quick explanation. Overall, I think the ending ruined the book and made most of the story pointless because Trapped was about seven students struggling to survive and we never got to find out if they did.

Trapped is a very good book and I did enjoy reading it, but it is missing something towards the end.

And 2012 looks to be even better – the grand finale of the Twilight Saga AND the start of The Hunger Games? It's going to be UH-MAZ-ING.

But is still, sadly, MANY months away. So what better way to spend our Christmas break then catching up on our favourite YA classics on film! And at the top of our lists:

10. Mean Girls - before she was the goddess of all things hilarious and 30 Rock, Tina Fey was inspired by Rosalind Wiseman's classic Queen Bees and Wannabees to write this laugh-out-loud and so true it hurts look at popularity and the lengths we'll go to get it (Bonus read: check out her autobiography Bossypants, which totally wins the game for best cover of all time ever)

9. The Outsiders - A shout out to all those of us who we young enough to remember Rob Lowe from his Brat Pack and not West Wing days (note: that's still been off the air for 5 years. We are SO OLD).

8. The Princess Diaries - Oh, Anne Hathaway, it's impossible not to love any movie that combines you and the great Julie Andrews, even if do we find your whole  'I took off my glasses and now I'm gorgeous' sequence totally unbelievable. 

7. The Princess Bride – Pirates! Giants! Princesses! and the greatest kiss in the history of cinema. There's nothing not to love about both the film and the book of this children's classic – and absolutely no movie we'd rather have on while home from school sick.

6. Virgin Suicides/ Cruel Intentions - Sharing a spot because there is a very good argument that neither are based on YA books, both movies are completely compulsive, by alternate turns dreamy and fierce and totally, totally brilliant.

5. Little Women - Even if we don't always agree with their choices (he's Batman, Jo, BATMAN), the March sisters have an unchallenged place in our hearts as some of the best YA feminists ever to be on the screen (or page!)

4. Angus, Thongs. . . – We're not going to get into the name debate but needless to say that whatever type of snogging she's doing, Georgia Nicolson remains the perfect British teen voice.

3. Clueless – When Jane Austen meets mid-90s fashion, how could things ever go wrong? We still remember staunchly defending Cher's right to fall in love with the dreamy Paul Rudd. (He was her step-brother, you guys, totally not gross)

2. Stand by Me – Another late 80s legend that's still(!) available on VHS, it'll make you laugh, cry and then cry some more. Seriously, its very touching.

1. Harry Potter/ Twilight – Total cop out but we can't pick! But whether your favourite trio is Harry, Hermione and Ron or Edward, Bella and Jacob there's something totally wonderful about the way you can lose yourself in both series – and the fact that big movie studios are listening to legions of book fans and committing to bringing these huge series to life on film.

So that's our top ten, what's yours??

Atomic: Molly

Age: 14

Scotty's story is so real. His situation can happen so easily. Such a captivating story.

Atomic: Paramjot

Age: 13

Trapped is a story about seven children stuck trapped in their school.

I loved this book and I didn’t want to put the book down. I read into the night and during my most of my school lessons. It was a gripping and entertaining.  I can’t wait to read more of his works. I really enjoyed this book. I hope that all Michael Northrop’s works are really popular and I have recommended this book to all my friends. I hope you guys read it… =)

Atomic: Megan

Age: 15

When it starts to snow, the biggest worry Scotty Weems has is that his basketball match will be cancelled.  School is shut early, but Scott and his friends stay behind, knowing they have a ride coming.  But as the storm turns into a blizzard, they realise no one will come for them.  Spending the night at school isn’t a dream-come-true, but at least it’s safe and warm.  Only the power fails.  And still the snow falls.  It gets colder, darker…  The seven students remaining are trapped, and the choices they will be forced to make could destroy them all forever…

I wasn’t sure what to expect from Trapped.  All I knew was that the cover made me cold and the blurb made me want to read the book now now now!  And, boy, was I not let down!  The book was able to make me as freezing as the cover, and the story itself was totally gripping.  I sat down to read the first chapter and I was hooked.  It made me need to read on!  It grabbed my attention straight away and the rest of the book held it.  I had to find out what the terrible thing that Scotty hinted at was – I ended up reading half the book in a single sitting!

I liked Scotty Weems’ voice straight away: it was simple but descriptive, and was just really likable.  He was brilliantly snarky and witty, as well as being funny and ironic.  He really felt like a teenager: hormone ridden!  And he also had loads of random facts, but believable random knowledge, which somehow made him more believable.  He was also smart, practical, sort of a worrier, and really, really brave.

Scotty’s two long-time best friends, Pete Dubois and Jason Gillispie, were both great.  The three of them really stuck together, and their relationship felt really natural; though I liked how it also got strained during the trapped period (it made it more believable).  Pete was the “normal kid”: very much average in everything.  He was really nice: he didn’t do fake playing cool.  Jason was kinda twisted; he was fascinated by wars and weapons.  He was (sometimes) logical, a scary-good liar, and was always there for Scotty when he needed him.  Plus, he was really funny!

The other four “trapped” kids were all really unique and different.  Krista O’Rea was the “beautiful” one, the one who had all the guys drooling over her; she was also sweet and funny.  Her best friend, Julie, was always with her: they stuck together all the way through the book.  Elijah, the “weird” one, was sort of a loner; he was also clever, funny, and a realist.  My personal favourite was Less Goddard.  He was “bad news”; Scotty thought he was a psychopath.  Apparently he “radiated danger”.  But, he could be nice, and he was really clever.  I liked how he changed and evolved from being a total jerk in my eyes to me actually liking and admiring him.

The characters all felt so real to me, the relationships.  And the situation felt the most real of all.  It was a terrifying thought, but a believable one: it’s so easy to get trapped by natural forces.  And scariest of all: Kids in charge of a school!

I really liked the writing in this book: I totally believed Scott’s voice.  And the way he wasn’t sure about some things and some names made it so believable.  But: after a while I found there were too many “likes” and “you knows” for me.  It started to get annoying once I’d noticed it.  Nonetheless, the writing was still just so vivid.  I felt the cold, the claustrophobia, the panic.  I just loved how we were given snippets of information, little by little, until they slotted together so we could get a glimpse of what was happening… It made me desperate to read on.  I’ve really got to hand it to Michael Northrop: he’s a really vivid writer.  And, seriously: the worst ending ever!  I want a sequel; I want to know what happens next!  It all just felt too abrupt; it left me dangling without all of the answers!

About fear, death, being trapped and the willingness to do anything for survival, Trapped had me on the edge of my seat: I loved it.  It was full of suspense, fear, real-life-horror and huge national disasters, with a little bit of romance thrown in, and the occasional forced teen slang didn’t take away from all that.  What made Trapped really hit home for me was the realness of it all.  A little too much snow, wrong place, wrong time, and anyone could end up trapped.  Very, very scary.  I can’t wait for my next book by Northrop.

Atomic: Rowan

Age: 12

Personally, I really enjoyed this book, but took a while for me to get sucked in. Overall, If you want a good book, read through this and you would be surprised at the end. Do NOT expect a happy ending – it is not a fully happy ending. Each chapter page has a simple design that is almost guaranteed to make you smile. The only thing I dislike about it is the cover – it looks unpromising, but that’s just a personal thing.

Atomic: Brandan

Age: 13

Trapped is a novel about a group of students trapped in their high school due to snow. Each of them was expecting transport but it never turned up.  I don’t want to go into detail about the plot and I think the title gives you a good idea of what will happen.

I really enjoyed this book because of the simplicity of the idea and it is really well written. I especially like books that tell the story with a character telling what happens.

I would recommend this book to anyone who likes thrillers. :)

Atomic: Zarkash              

Age: 14

As I read the blurb of the book, I thought about danger, mystery, betrayal and perhaps a hint of romance – those were the ideas that I thought would be present in the book, perfect for a good read.

When I started to read the actual book I fell in love with it, even promising my best friend that she could read it after me. But as I got towards the climax, I just lost interest. The storyline was extremely basic for me; seven kids trapped in a school. Of course danger would be on the way, but to be honest I didn’t care. The danger that did enter wasn’t exactly “Oh my god!” It was more like “So what!”

As the storyline progressed it became repetitive: Scotty wondering how he would survive, Jason being worried about his go-kart and Pete trying to hit on Julie.

Not only was the storyline basic, but there was something missing. Something that would make you remain on the edge of your seat. There was no thrilling moment in the book at all. The ending, personally, was rubbish-no originality.

Despite the lack of uniqueness of the storyline I did like the way the author wrote in first-person. I have read many books which have failed to do it so well. Scotty’s emotions as a teenager where exact, and it sounded as if somebody who I would know was narrating the story to me.

In conclusion, I would rate this book 2 out of 5, for the sheer fact that I didn’t enjoy the book and the basic storyline let down the author’s skill of excellent writing. Northrop used a good way to tell the story, even to explain the emotions like a teenager would, but the concept didn’t meet the standards of the structure.

Read on to see what some of our Atomics thought about Trapped by Michael Northrop! If you’d to read more, click here for the full list of reviewers!

Atomic: Suzie

Age: 13

Trapped is about Scott and his friends trapped in a school and they’re trying to cope.

Atomic: Molly

Age: 13

I really enjoyed this book. The characters add some humour into a dangerous, life threatening situation.

The plot is really exiting but I won’t ruin it for anyone! The way Michael leads you down the wrong track is very misleading . . . the only bad point i have is that once or twice the writer seems to ramble on a bit but other than that I can’t fault it!

This book is enjoyable funny, exiting , interesting, and just an overall hit! Make sure you read it!!!

Over and out Mollo!

Atomic: Tina

Age: 14

The novel Trapped, by Michael Northrop, is a novel about a group of kids who get stuck in at school after a terrible blizzard starts. One by one, the ‘essentials’ start going out. First the power, then the heat, the pipes freeze and the roof shudders. The blizzard goes on for days, and as the snow piles high and the empty halls grow colder and darker, the mounting pressure forces a devastating decision.

I really enjoyed this novel for three main reasons. The first reason is the ending. It is really clever how it leaves lots of questions unanswered and lets the reader decide what should happen next. It is like a cliff-hanger, but you get a sense of what is going to happen. The second reason is I love how Michael Northrop creates such a good story from something as simple as snow, which is a hard subject. The final reason I love this book is, because it contains humour which is suitable and understandable by teenagers my age and older and the words used throughout the book reflects how teenagers actually speak, which makes the reader feel as if they are with the character.

I found no fault with the novel and found it to be an exceptional read. The way that humour is tied into a serious situation created by the author and how towards the end of the book the reader starts to feel the tension created by all the characters. Another good thing about this book, is how it is presented. The increasing snow on the pages is a nice touch!

I would recommend this book to anyone who loves humour, snow or stories about kids trashing their schools. I hope there will be another novel in the series, because this novel was enjoyable to read and makes you more wary of how long you stay in school if it ever snows!

Click the links below to see what everyone thought!

Rowan (12), Brandon (13) and Zarkash (14)

Molly (14), Paramjot (13) and Megan (15)

Suzie (13), Molly (13) and Tina (14)

Bronwyn (17), Kerry (13) and Polly (14)

Big thanks to all our reviewers!

If you’d like to learn more about joining The Atomics, click here.

It's official, Breaking Dawn is the biggest Twilight film so far! Yay! To celebrate we have FIVE Breaking Dawn goody bags to give away to lucky Twilight fans. To enter just tell us the name of the island Edward takes Bella to on their honeymoon

Closing date is December 15^th. We’ll pull five correct entries at random to win.

This competition is open to UK residents aged over 12 only. Please read our full terms and conditions here. 

[Author C.J with her agent and two members of Team Atom]

We had a school theme to tie-in with some of our big titles for next year (that's why Editorial Director Sam looks super snazzy as our head girl) with sweets and cakes and sandwiches aplenty.

[A selection of lovely bloggers]

We are beyond excited about our upcoming books, and we may have accidentally bombarded all the bloggers with a bit too much info…but we think they took it pretty well! An absolute highlight of the evening was hearing our authors C.J. Daugherty and Sarra Manning talking about their writing.

[Sarra Manning chatting with some more lovely bloggers]

We'd like to say a big thank you to everyone who came to visit Atom Towers – and especially to C.J. and Sarra for being brave and joining in with our presentation!  (We ♥ powerpoint.)

If anyone has any extra photos or has blogged about the event we'd love to hear from you.

If you'd like to hear more from C.J. or Sarra, you can find them on twitter (@CJ_Daugherty and @sarramanning) and online at cjdaugherty.com and sarramanning.co.uk

Isn't that rather exciting chaps and chapesses? We think we're going to reward ourselves with some cake and a cup of tea. (Publishing is so rock'n'roll.)

Whilst we do that, maybe you should go and re-read Eclipse, because, y'know, it's GREAT in every way.

p.s. we think we feel another competition coming on (we just can't help ourselves these days) so keep an eye out for one before the end of the week…

Just because it’s nearly the weekend and we love you we thought we’d give you the chance to win a copy of both the fabulous Red Riding Hood book & DVD.

To enter just tell us who directed both Red Riding Hood and the first Twilight film?

Closing date is December 15^th. We’ll pull one correct entry at random to win.

This competition is open to UK residents aged over 12 only. Please read our full terms and conditions here.

Team Atom were very excited to attend the premiere of The Twilight Saga: Breaking Dawn Part 1 last night over at Westfield Stratford (check out the pic of our tickets which we will treasure forever), E1 really did a great job putting on such a huge event. It was like a Winter Wonderland.  Not only were Kristen, Taylor and R-Patz all there but so were McFly. Who knew Tom was a Twihard!?! We were especially pleased to see so many people asking to get their books signed because without Stephenie’s fabulous books we wouldn’t have these amazing films. We’ve got a comp to win 5 film goody bags coming your way very soon so keep ‘em peeled.

Our lovely friends over at BFI have given us two pairs of tickets to give away to Atom readers. You'll be able to select which screening you'd like to go to and they are even throwing in a film poster because they know how VERY IMPORTANT it is to have Edward/Jacob adorning your bedroom wall.

They met in Twilight, parted in New Moon and fought together in Eclipse. Now in the penultimate film in the epic saga, Bella Swan (Kristen Stewart) and Edward Cullen (Robert Pattinson) will finally vow to be together forever as they become husband and wife.

The suspenseful and deeply romantic Breaking Dawn Part 1 continues the epic tale of supernatural fantasy and passionate love that has made The Twilight Saga a worldwide phenomenon.

 All you have to do is fill in the form below to be in with a chance of winning.

NB: this competition is for TICKETS ONLY. You'll need to be able to get to the IMAX cinema on the day of your chosen screening. To enter this competition you must be aged 16 or over, and if you are under 18 you need the permission of your parent/guardian. The competition closes at midnight GMT on 16th November.

Please read our full terms and conditions here.

If you missed our spooky reading recommendations last week, find them here for a fabulous fright!

Don't Look Behind You, Lois Duncan

From the author of I Know What You Did Last Summer comes this heart-thumping tale of a family being pursued across America by a trained killer. Forced to take on new identities, they think they've reached safety…but have they? (Um, spoiler alert: they haven't…)

Monster High, Lisi Harrison

Ok, so this is more cute than creepy, but this story will give you more costume ideas than any other! Catch up with the descendents of the world's most famous monsters - Frankie Stein, Draculaura, Clawdeen Wolf… There are monster puns aplenty which will have you rofl-ing for sure, and if that's not enough, you can watch this FEARSOME video with the catchiest Halloween tune you could ever want. (p.s. did we tell you there are also DOLLS?)

Breaking Dawn, Stephenie Meyer

Maybe you've read it once, maybe you've read it a million times, but now's the moment to get this one off your shelf again! Because a) what's more Halloweeny than vampires and werewolves? and b) the film is ALMOST HERE!! (Excited, much?) We guess, though, we'd also be happy for you to get your vampire fix from Destined or Misguided Angel, if they're more your cup of tea.

'What about more WEREWOLVES' we hear you say. Well, ok, to round off the list…

Nightshade, Andrea Cremer

Completely kick-ass heroine? Check. Hot hot hot love interest? Double check (there are two, you'll feel spoiled). And, most importantly for Halloween, spooky old mansion filled with something so terrifying we can't begin to describe it? Of course!

We'd love to hear what you'll be reading over the weekend to get you suitably scared for Monday!

Exciting news! Destined, the exciting new instalment in the fabulous House of Night series is out today! What better way to spend these darker, colder eveneings than curled up with Zoey and the gang.

Fancy a sneaky peek? Check out our exclusive extracts right here. Enjoy!

Isn't it spooky? We LOVE it!

We also love our cover:

You can find out tons more about the book and about C.J at her brand spangly new blog – click here to visit it. She's also on facebook and twitter, obvs.

Loughborough librarian Val has helped us to choose a selection of reviews so that you call all see what they thought!

Adam Aussaoui-Helecké, Year 7

In his award-winning novel, Paolo Bacigalupi transports you to a dystopian world set a hundred years in the future. This is a dying world, engulfed in a stinking, stagnant cesspool of poverty and dishonesty. Nailer (the book's main character) works on Bright-Sands beach, breaking up ancient oil tankers and cargo ships. Not only that, but he is constantly terrorized by his always intoxicated thug-of-a-father.

Then Nailer's world changes dramatically one day when he finds one of the sleek white new ships called clippers wrecked on some rocks. But little does Nailer know that it will change his life . . . for the worse.

I couldn't put Ship Breaker down! It really was a treat and a gem of a novel for me.

Ethan Stratford, Year 8

Award winning book Ship Breaker is a novel written by an American author, Paolo Bacigalupi, who also wrote a book called the Wind-Up Girl. Ship Breaker is a novel about earth in the not-too-distant future, oil is low and the gap in poverty is greater than ever before. The story's main character, Nailer, is a ship breaker, someone who goes through the wrecked hulls of oil rigs which have been left on the shores to rust. His main task is to search for the remaining oil and metal in the rigs. All day crawling through asbestos infested tunnels stripping out copper wire before returning home to a drug-fuelled father, Richard Lopez whose troubled life made him become a drug addict, who also took pleasure in beating Nailer. This cruel harsh life isn't easy for Nailer, but after almost drowning in a pool of oil his luck comes in the form of a clipper ship, the vessel that the rich sail. But what he finds is much more interesting . . .

I found this dystopian novel a treat to read, the book made many exciting twists and turns, the book also evolved as it went on, the plot changed and the moral of the story became something entirely different. The characters were also well thought-out. For example, my favourite character, Tool the half-man, was quite an unknown character at the start, and was a mysterious figure, but he matured as the book went on. You found out more about him and his past, how he thought and what he believed was right. I think the book's moral was about poverty, about how the gap had become so big. The book also made an excellent opening for a sequel. I thought Paolo Bacigalupi did an excellent job on this book and I look forward to reading what he writes next.

Charlie Lallo, Year 9

The story was very inspiring. I really enjoyed reading this book, I couldn't put it down when I picked it up.

Daniel Alford and Tian Ren Chen, Year 13

Ship Breaker was an interesting and thought-provoking book. The characters seemed realistic and sympathetic and the setting vivid and imaginative. It gave insight into every character and raised some interesting points regarding what it means to be human.

For a science fiction story, the premise was surprisingly believable.

The book, however, did leave a bit to be desired. While the action was vivid and fast-paced at time, the difference between they styles used for voice and that used for description was rather jarring and while the world was incredibly detailed, certain aspects were often raised and then left unexplained.

Despite this, the book is refreshing and colourful and the dystopia in which is was set allowed for a gripping read. A real page turner!

Thanks to Loughborough Grammar School, and especially to Adam, Ethan, Charlie, Daniel and Tian!

You can read an extract from Ship Breaker here, and you can find out more about the Atomics here.

Destined by P.C. and Kristin Cast is out on 25th October!

To help pass the time while you're waiting, we're giving you all the chance to win a beautiful framed print of an illustration by Kim Doner from Drgaon's Oath - the first House of Night novella. (The image below really doesn't do it justice!)

Enter your name, age and email address to enter. The competition is open to residents of the UK aged 12 and over. It closes at midnight on 24th October. The full terms and conditions are here.

If you haven't read Dragon's Oath yet, you can see sneaky peeks here.

We are SO EXCITED that the book is almost out! You can pre-order it now, or find it in shops on 25th October.

Zoey

"A short bus? Really?" All I could do was shake my head and stare at the squatty yellow thing that said house of night in fresh black letters across its side. "I mean, it's nice that my call to Thanatos worked so fast and we're being allowed to go back to school, but a short bus?"

"Twin! They sent the retard bus for us!" Erin said, giggling.

"Twin, that's really mean," Shaunee said.

"I know, Twin. I can't believe Neferet's so f-ing evil she sent the retard bus for us," Erin continued.

"No, I don't mean Neferet's being mean. I mean it's mean to say retard," Shaunee explained, rolling her eyes at her Twin.

"I think Shaunee's correct, and you should consider expanding your vocabulary. You're using mean too many times; it's redundant," Damien said.

Shaunee, Erin, Stevie Rae, Rephaim, and I stared wide-eyed at Damien. I knew we were all thinking it was great to hear him obsessing about vocabulary again, but we didn't want to say anything because we were all scared he might burst into tears and retreat back into the soggy depression that had been haunting him since Jack's death.

Aphrodite and Darius chose that moment to emerge from the depot's basement and as per usual, Aphrodite bridged the gap between decorum and disaster by invoking her one tried and true rule: Care About How It Looks.

"Oh, for shit's sake. I'm not getting in that. The short bus is for 'tards," Aphrodite said with a snort and a hair toss.

"Y'all, it's not that bad. I mean, obviously it's a new bus. Check out the fresh black House of Night lettering," Stevie Rae said.

"It might as well say Social Suicide," Aphrodite said, frowning at Stevie Rae.

"I'm not lettin' you rain on my parade. I like school," Stevie Rae said. She stepped up into the bus, grinning at the Son of Erebus Warrior who had, unsmilingly, opened the door for her.

"Priestess." He greeted her somberly with a nod, and then, totally ignoring our own Son of Erebus Warrior, Darius, he looked at me and, with even a more clipped nod said, "Zoey, I am to notify you and Stevie Rae that there will be a school Council Meeting, which will convene in a thirty minutes. You are both to attend."

"Okay, well, Stark's letting everyone else know you're here, so we'll be ready to leave in just a sec," I said, smiling at him like his face didn't look like a storm cloud.

"Hey, y'all, it still smells new!" Stevie Rae yelled. I could see her short blond curls bobbing as she gawked around inside. Then she popped back out and skipped down the stairs to take Rephaim's hand and grin up at him. "Wanna sit in the backseat with me? It's real bouncy!"

"Seriously," Aphrodite said. "That bus is perfect for you; you're a retard. And I hate to be the one to break it to you—oh wait, that's a lie; I don't really hate it—but even though the Vamp High Council has clearly put the pressure on Neferet and forced her to bus us back to the House of Night, birdboy is still not welcome there. Did you forget in the afterglow of whatever you two could have been doing in the one-point-two seconds between sunset and now that he wasn't a bird?"

I saw Stevie Rae tighten her hand clamp on Rephaim. "I'll have you know it's been more than one-point-two seconds since sunset, none of your business what we've been doin', and Rephaim's goin' to school. Just like the rest of us."

Aphrodite's blond brows went up to her hairline. "You're not kidding, are you?"

"No," Stevie Rae said firmly. "And you should understand that better than anyone else."

"Me? Understand? What in the hell are you talking about?"

"You're not a fledgling, red or regular. You're not a vampyre. You're maybe not even a human."

" 'Cause she's a hag," I heard Shaunee whisper.

"From Hell," Erin whispered back.

Aphrodite narrowed her eyes at the Twins, but Stevie Rae wasn't done.

"Just like Rephaim, you're something that's not quite normal, but Nyx has given her blessing to you—even if none of the rest of us understands why the heck she'd do that. Anyway, you're goin' to school. I'm goin' to school. So's Rephaim. The end."

"Stevie Rae has a point," Stark said as he joined us in the parking lot outside the depot, the rest of the red fledgling kids trailing along behind him. "Neferet's not gonna like it, but Nyx forgave and blessed Rephaim."

"In front of the entire school," Stevie Rae added quickly.

"They know that," Rephaim murmured to her. He looked from her to the rest of us, his gaze finally settling on me. "What do you think?" he surprised me by asking. "Should I try to go to the House of Night, or would that just be causing trouble for no reason?"

Everyone gawked at me. With a quick glance at the stony-faced Son of Erebus Warrior in the bus, I said, "Uh, would you guys go ahead and get on the bus? I need to talk to my . . . uh . . ." I trailed off with a gesture that took in Aphrodite, Stevie Rae, and the rest of my closest friends.

"Your circle," Stevie Rae said, smiling at me. "You're goin' to talk to your circle."

"And their accoutrements," Damien added, nodding at Aphrodite, Darius, and Kramisha.

I grinned. "I like that! Okay, would you guys get on the bus while I talk to my circle and their accoutrements, please?"

"I ain't sure I like being called accoutrements," Kramisha said, narrowing her eyes at me.

"It means—" Stevie Rae began, but Kramisha interrupted her with a shake of her head. "I know what it mean. I'm sayin' I ain't sure I like it."

"Could you journal about it later and right now shut up and follow Zoey so we can get this over with?" Aphrodite said while Kramisha sucked air and glared. "And for the record," she pointed at everyone except Darius. "You are a Nerd Herd. I am your token Popular and Perfect."

The Twins looked like they were taking verbal aim at Aphrodite so I said, "Guys, focus. Rephaim's question is important." Thankfully, that shut everyone up and I motioned for my circle, accoutrements, and Aphrodite to follow me down the sidewalk and out of hearing range as the red fledglings clambered into the bus and I frantically tried to think about Rephaim's very important question.

My mind felt mushy. Last night had been awful. I glanced at Stark and felt my cheeks getting warm. Okay, well, not all of it had been awful, but still, hard questions filled my head. I mentally shook myself. I wasn't just a kid anymore. I was the first Fledgling High Priestess and all these guys looked up to me and expected me to Know the Right Answers (well, to everything except geometry, Spanish translations, and parallel-parking issues).

Please, Nyx, let me say the right thing. I sent up a quick, silent prayer, then met Rephaim's gaze and realized suddenly it wasn't my answer we needed.

"What do you want?" I asked him.

"Well, he wants—" Stevie Rae began, but my raised hand silenced my BFF. "No," I said. "This can't be what you say Rephaim wants, or even what you want for him. I need Rephaim's answer. So, what it is? What do you want?" I repeated.

Rephaim met my gaze steadily. "I want to be normal," he said.

Aphrodite snorted. "Sadly, normal plus teenager equals going to stupid school."

"School isn't stupid," Damian said, and then he turned to Rephaim. "But she's right about the normal part. Going to school is what normal kids do."

"Yep," Shaunee said.

"Sucks, but yep," Erin said. "Although it is an excellent fashion parade."

"Right you are, Twin," Shaunee said.

"What does that mean?" Rephaim asked Stevie Rae.

She smiled at him. "Basically that you should be goin' to school with us."

He smiled back at her, love and warmth filling his face. When he looked from Stevie Rae to me, that wonderful expression was still there, and I couldn't help smiling back at him.

"If normal means going to school, then that's what I would really like to do. If it doesn't cause too much of a problem."

"It'll cause problems, make no mistake about that," Darius said.

"You don't think he should go?" I asked.

"I did not say that. I agree with you that it is his choice, his decision, but Rephaim, you should understand that it would be easier if you chose to stay here—out of the way—at least until we see what Neferet and Kalona's next moves will be."

I thought I saw Rephaim cringe at the mention of his dad, but he nodded and said, "I do understand, but I'm tired of hiding alone in the darkness." He looked down at Stevie Rae again and then back at us. "And Stevie Rae may need me."

"Okay, you know this whole ‘let's let the birdboy decide' and ‘Stevie Rae may need me' stuff is all real happy-schmappy in theory, but in reality we're gonna be walking onto a campus where the batshit crazy High Priestess hates us, and will use anything she can to bring us, and by that I mean you specifically, Z, down. Not to mention Dragon, the Leader of the Sons of Erebus Warriors, is definitely not acting right since his mate was killed by the guy we're bringing back onto campus. Neferet's going use Rephaim against us. Dragon is going to back her. Shit is going to hit the fan."

"Well," I said. "It won't be the first time."

"Uh, may I say something?" Damien's hand was raised like he was in class and wanted to be called on.

"Yes, honey, and you don't have to raise your hand," I said.

"Oh, okay, thanks. What I wanted to say is we need to remember that when Nyx appeared at the House of Night, forgave and blessed Rephaim, she basically gave us permission to include Rephaim in our world. Neferet can't go against that—at least not openly. And neither can Dragon. How much they don't like it is beside the point."

"But they did go against it," Stark said. "Neferet asked Dragon if he'd accept Rephaim, and he said no, so she kicked him off campus. Stevie Rae called bullshit on that, and that's why we all ended up leaving."

"Yeah, and just because the High Council managed to pressure Neferet into letting us come back to class, it doesn't mean we're really going to be accepted. I can promise you that she and Dragon, and probably a lot of other people aren't going to be cool with this." Aphrodite fluttered her fingers at Rephaim.

Damien spoke before I could say anything. "Well, the truth is neither Neferet nor Dragon can supersede the Goddess's wishes."

"Super what?" Shaunee asked.

"Seed who?" Erin added.

"It means to replace," Stevie Rae explained for Damien. "And that's a real interestin' point, Damien. No one can supersede the Goddess, not even a High Priestess."

"Can you imagine what the tight-assed High Council would say about that?" Aphrodite rolled her eyes. "Litter of kittens—they'd have several litters of flying kittens. Each."

I blinked and had the sudden urge to hug Aphrodite. Well, the urge passed quickly, but still.

"Aphrodite," I said. "You are a genius! And so is Damien."

"Of course I am," Aphrodite said smugly.

"You're going to tell on Neferet and Dragon to the High Council, aren't you?" Damien said.

"I think ‘telling on' them is not the right way to put it. Uh, you have your laptop with you, don't ya?" I asked.

Damien patted the man purse slung over his shoulder. "Of course. It's in my satchel."

"Man purse," Shaunee said.

"Just sayin'," Erin added.

"It's a European satchel," Damien said firmly.

"If it has feathers . . ." Erin said.

"And quacks . . ." Shaunee said.

"Whatever it is, I'm glad it means you have your computer with you." I jumped in before Damien could big word them. "You do have Skype downloaded on it, don't you?"

"Yes," he said.

"Good. I need to borrow it for the Council Meeting, if that's okay with you?"

"No problem," Damien said, raising his brows questioningly at me.

"What are you thinkin'?" Stevie Rae asked his question for him.

"Well, when I talked to Thanatos about helping us get back to school, I didn't mention that little thing about the fact that we're kinda, sorta branching off with our own House of Night here, but that we'll still be going to class and such at our original House of Night."

"We're gonna have to think of a great new name for our place," Shaunee said.

"Ooooh! Right you are, Twin," Erin said.

"Hey, it's the depot, so how about the Pot Lot House of Night," Shaunee said.

I looked at them. Shook my head and said a firm, "No to the Pot Lot." Then I went back to my original point. "But I do need to do a whole Skype conference with the Vamp High Council to get permission for what we want to do. A school Council Meeting seems a good time to do that, especially since I'm sure Neferet will love it if I ask that she bear witness to my call."

"Z, that sounds like a crap plan. Neferet will love talking to the High Council and figuring out a way to twist everything you say to make you look like Insane Teenager," Aprodite said.

"That's kinda my point," I said. "I'm not gonna be Insane Teenager. I'm gonna be the Fledgling High Priestess who gives the High Council all the details about the amazing, miraculous gift Nyx has given our Red High Priestess's Consort, Rephaim, and that he's super excited to be starting school at the Tulsa House of Night. I'm sure they'll even want to congratulate Neferet on being such an awesome High Priestess who can handle all the changes going on here."

"That's devious. I like it," Aphrodite said. "You put Neferet and even Dragon in a position where if they say ‘hell no we're not accepting the birdboy,' or even bitch and complain a little about it, they look massively bad—what with Nyx showing up and miracling."

"This still isn't going to be an easy road," Stark said.

Rephaim met his gaze steadily. "No matter how rough it is, it's a better road than the one that leads to darkness and hatred and death. And I think you know exactly what I mean."

"I do," Stark said, returning his gaze unflinchingly.

"So do I," Stevie Rae said.

"Me, too," I added.

"We're in agreement then. Rephaim returns to the House of Night with us," Darius said.

"Okay, wait. Does this mean we have to get in the damn short bus?" Aphrodite asked.

"Yes!" we all said together.

Laughing and feeling lighter than I had in days, I clambered on the short bus with my friends, and bumped my shoulder against Stark as we took our seats. He barely glanced at me. It was about then that I realized he really hadn't had much to say to me (or anyone) since we'd woken up. Remembering how close we'd been—how he'd touched me and made the world seem all right again—had me chewing my lip and feeling super confused. I snuck another glance at him. He was staring out the window. He looked tired. Really tired.

"Hey, what's up with you?" I asked as the bus bounced its way along Cincinnati Street heading toward midtown

"Me? Nothin'."

"Seriously, you look really tired. Are you feeling okay?"

"Zoey, you woke me up and kept me up through most of the day yesterday. Then you made that call to Thanatos to get the whole ‘return to school' thing in motion, which was not exactly a calm, quiet conversation. I'd just got to sleep when you yelled whatever and woke me up again. Making love was great." He paused and for a second smiled and looked almost normal. Then he opened his mouth and ruined it by saying, "Afterward you did some serious tossing and turning before you passed out. I couldn't get back to sleep. So I'm tired. That's all."

I blinked at him. Twice. And tried not to feel like he'd just slapped me in my face. Keeping my voice down because I didn't want to deal with all my friends knowing, I said, "Okay, putting aside the whole I-had-to-call-Thanatos-to-get-us-back-to-school thing, which is what I shoulda done 'cause I'm the High Priestess in charge, and the fact that you came on to me when all I meant to do was cuddle and sleep, my mom is dead, Stark. Nyx let me see her enter the Otherworld. As of right now I don't know how or why that happened. I'm trying like hell to act semi-normal. I haven't even talked to my grandma yet."

"That's right, you haven't. I told you that you should have called her right away—or at least called your mom. What if it was all just a dream?"

I looked at Stark in utter disbelief, struggling to keep my voice and my emotions under control. "You are the one person in this world who should understand better than anyone else that I can tell the difference between really seeing the Otherworld and dreaming it."

"Yeah, I know, but—"

"But are you saying I should have gone through all of that and not disturbed your precious sleep? Well, except to have sex with you!"

I clamped my mouth shut and tried to look normal when I saw Aphrodite turn around and glance back at me with a question mark on her face.

Stark blew out a long breath. "No, that's not what I mean. I'm sorry, Z." Then he took my hand in his. "Seriously. I'm sounding like a jerk."

"Yeah, you are," I said.

"Sorry, again," he said, and then he butted my shoulder with his. "Can we rewind this conversation?"

"Yeah," I said.

"Here goes—I'm tired and it's making me stupid. And about your mom, we don't know what really happened and I think it's freaking both of us out. But no matter what I love you, even if I'm a jerk. Okay? Better?"

"Okay. Yeah. Better," I said.

Still letting him hold my hand I looked out of the window as we took the left on Fifteenth Street, passed Gumpy's Garden, which always made the air smell like piñon wood, and traveled down Cherry Street. By the time we were on Utica, and passing Twenty-first, I was completely distracted by worry about my mom and my grandma—and wondering if maybe Stark could be right to question what I thought had been my vision. I mean—I hadn't heard from Grandma. What if it had all been a bad dream . . .

"It's always so pretty." Damien's voice drifted back from the front seat he'd automatically chosen as his own. "When you look at it from here, it's so hard to believe that such horrible, heartbreaking things could happen there."

I heard the sob in his voice, squeezed Stark's hand once before letting it go, and then lurched up the aisle to sit beside Damien.

"Hey," I said, sliding my arm through his. "You have to remember that wonderful, heartmaking things happen there, too. Don't ever forget that's where you met Jack and fell in love with him."

Damien stared at me and I thought he looked sad but really, really wise.

"How are you doing without Heath?"

"I miss him," I said honestly. Then something made me add, "But I don't want to be like Dragon, eaten up by sadness."

"Me, either," Damien said softly. "Even though sometimes it's hard not to be."

"It hasn't been very long."

Clamping his lips tightly together, as if to keep himself from crying, he nodded his head.

"You'll get through this," I said. "And so will I. We will. Together," I said firmly.

Then we were going through the iron gate that had the crescent moon crest on the middle of it, and driving around to the side entrance of the school.

"School Council Meeting begins at seven thirty," said the Son of Erebus Warrior as the bus came to a halt. "Classes begin at eight o'clock sharp, just like they should."

"Thank you," I said to him like he'd actually been friendly (or at least respectful). Then I glanced at my phone: 7:20 p.m. Ten minutes until the meeting and forty before school started. I stood up and looked back at the group of obviously nervous kids.

"Okay," I said. "Just go to your old homerooms and wait there for what to do next. Stevie Rae, Stark and I are going to the Council Meeting and, as they'd say on the Isle of Skye, get Rephaim's and your permanent schedules sorted."

"How 'bout me? Ain't I comin' to the Meeting?" Kramisha asked. "It's usually borin', but I bet today it'll be better than usual."

"You're right," I said. "It's about time they started to automatically include you, along with Stevie Rae and me."

"Where do I go?" Rephaim asked from the back of the bus.

I was thinking, trying to figure out where the heck he should go when Damien stood up beside me. "You can come with me—at least for today. If that's okay with Zoey and Stevie Rae."

I smiled at Damien. I don't think I'd ever been so proud of him. Everyone would be worried about him and handling him like he could break down into hysteria at any second, so if he latched onto Rephaim, no way would anyone question him—they'd be too scared of upsetting Damien.

"Thank you," I said.

"That's a real good idea, Damien," Stevie Rae said.

"All right. Try to act normal," I said. "And I'll see you guys back here after school."

"My first hour was Spells and Rituals," I heard Aphrodite mutter to Darius. "And there's that new vamp teaching it who looks like she's twelve. This should be fun."

"Remember," Stevie Rae said, giving Aphrodite a hard look she totally ignored, "be nice."

We filed off the bus. I could see how difficult it was for Stevie Rae to let Rephaim go with Damien. We didn't really know what he could be walking into, but we did understand that the chances of him being accepted and treated like the normal kid he longed to be were slim to none.

When Stevie Rae, Stark, and Kramisha and I were alone I said, "Ready to enter the lion's den?"

"I'm thinkin' it's more like headin' into a nasty wasp nest," Kramisha said. "But I'm ready."

"Me, too. Let's cowboy up and get this done."

"Deal," I said.

"Deal," they repeated.

And we walked into a future that was already making my stomach clench and feel like a raging IBS episode was going to hit me at any moment.

Ah, hell.

Julie said 'This has really really made my day, I'm so excited.'

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 Destined, the next thrilling instalment from the House of Night, is out on 25th October! But just in case that still seems like an awful long time to wait, we've got a tantalising extract for you… (Keep your eyes peeled over the next couple of weeks too – we've got some more sneak peeks coming here and on our facebook page.)

Prologue

Zoey

I think my mom is dead.

I tested the words silently. They felt wrong, unnatural, as if I was trying to comprehend the world turning upside down or the sun rising in the west.

I drew a deep, sobbing breath and rolled onto my side, reaching for another tissue in the box that was on the floor next to the bed.

Stark muttered and frowned and moved restlessly.

Slowly and carefully, I got out of bed, grabbed Stark’s giant sweatshirt from where he’d tossed it, pulled it on, and curled up on the beanbag chair that sat near the wall of our little tunnel room.

The beanbag made that smushy noise that always reminds me of the balls in those inflatable kid party houses, and Stark frowned and mumbled something again. I blew my nose. Quietly. Stop crying stop crying stop crying! It won’t help. It won’t bring Mom back. I blinked a bunch of times, and wiped my nose again. Maybe it had just been a dream. But even as I thought the words my heart knew the truth. Nyx had pulled me from my dreams to show me a vision of Mom entering the Otherworld. That meant Mom had died. Mom told Nyx that she was sorry for letting me down, I reminded myself as tears leaked down my cheeks again.

“She’d said she loved me,” I whispered.

I had hardly made any noise, but Stark tossed and turned restlessly, and muttered, “Stop!”

I clamped my lips together, even though I knew my whisper wasn’t what was messing with his sleep. Stark was my Warrior, my Guardian, and my boyfriend. No, boyfriend is too simple a word. There’s a bond between Stark and me that goes deeper than dating and sex and all the stuff that comes and goes with normal relationships. That’s why he was so restless. He could feel my sadness—even in his dreams he knew I was crying and hurt and scared and—

Stark pushed the blanket off his chest and I could see that his hand was clenched into a fist. My gaze went to his face. He was still asleep, but his forehead was furrowed and he was frowning.

I closed my eyes and drew a deep, centering breath. “Spirit,” I whispered. “Please come to me.” Instantly I felt the element brush against my skin. “Help me. No, actually, help Stark by shielding my sadness from him.” And maybe, I added silently, you could help shield some of my sadness from me, too. Even if it’s just for a little while. I drew another deep breath as spirit moved within and around me, swirling over to the bed. Opening my eyes I could actually see a ripple in the air surrounding Stark. His skin appeared to glow as the element settled against him like a diaphanous blanket. I felt warm and glanced down at my arms and saw that the same soft glow was resting against my skin. Stark exhaled a long sigh with me as spirit worked a little soothing magick, and for the first time in hours I felt a little, tiny bit of my sadness lift.

“Thank you, spirit,” I whispered and crossed my arms, hugging myself tight. Wrapped in the comforting touch of the element I felt closest to, I was actually a little sleepy. It was then that a different kind of warmth penetrated my consciousness. Slowly, not wanting to disturb the comforting spell the element was working, I unwrapped my arms from around myself and touched my chest.

Why is my seer stone warm? The small, round stone was dangling from its silver chain, resting between my breasts. I hadn’t taken it off since Sgiach had gifted it to me before I’d left the beautiful, magickal Isle of Skye.

Wonderingly, I pulled the stone out from under the sweatshirt, running my fingers over its smooth, marble surface. It still reminded me of a coconut-flavored Life Saver, but the Skye marble glittered with an unearthly light, as if the element I had invoked had made it alive—as if the warmth I felt was because it pulsed with life.

Queen Sgiach’s voice echoed through my memory: “A seer stone is in tune with only the most ancient of magicks: the kind I protect on my isle. I am gifting you with it so that you might, indeed, recognize the Old Ones if any still exist in the outside world . . .”

As her words replayed in my mind the stone turned slowly, almost lazily. The hole in its center was like a mini-telescope. As it shifted around I could see Stark illuminated through it, and my world shifted, too, narrowed, then everything changed.

Maybe it was because spirit was so close to me at that moment, but what I saw didn’t feel anything like the mind-blowing first time I’d looked through the stone on Skye and had ended up passing out.

But that didn’t mean it was any less unsettling.

Stark was there, lying on his back, most of his chest bare. The glow of spirit was gone. In its place I saw another image. It was indistinct, though, and I couldn’t make out his features. It was like someone’s shadow. Stark’s arm twitched and his hand opened. The shadow’s hand opened. As I watched the Guardian sword—the massive long sword that had come to Stark in the Otherworld—took form in Stark’s hand. I gasped in surprise and the phantom-like Warrior turned his head in my direction and closed his hand around the sword.

Instantly the Guardian sword shifted, changed, and became a long black spear—dangerous, lethal, tipped in blood that looked way too familiar to me. Fear spiked through me.

“No!” I cried. “Spirit, strengthen Stark! Make that thing go away!” With a noise like the beating wings of a giant bird, the apparition disappeared, the seer stone went cold, and Stark sat straight up, frowning at me.

“What are you doing over there?” He rubbed his eyes. “Why are you making so much noise?”

I opened my mouth to try to explain the bizarre thing I’d just seen when he sighed heavily and lay back down, flipping open the covers and motioning sleepily for me. “Come here. I can’t sleep unless you’re cuddled up with me. And I really need to get some sleep.”

“Okay, yeah, me, too,” I said, and on shaky legs I hurried to him and curled against his side, my head resting on his shoulder. “Hey, uh, something weird just happened,” I began, but when I tilted my head so that I could see into his eyes, Stark’s lips met mine. The surprise didn’t last long, and I slid into the kiss. It felt good—so good to be close to him. His arms went around me. I pressed myself against him while his lips followed the curve of my neck. “I thought you said you needed some sleep.” My voice sounded breathless.

“I need you more,” he said.

“Yeah,” I said. “Me, too.”

We lost ourselves in each other then. Stark’s touch chased away death and despair and fear. Together we reminded each other of life and love and happiness. Afterward we finally slept and the seer stone lay cold and forgotten on my breast between us.

Chapter One

Aurox

The human male’s flesh had been soft, pulpy.

It had been a surprise how easy it had been to destroy him—to end the beating of his feeble heart.

“Take me to North Tulsa. I want to go out into the night,” she’d said. That was the command that began their evening.

“Yes, Goddess,” he’d responded instantly, coming alive from the corner of the rooftop balcony that he’d made his own.

“Do not call me Goddess. Call me . . .” She’d looked contemplative. “. . . Priestess.” Her full lips, slick and reddened, turned up. “I believe it is best if everyone should simply call me Priestess—at least for a short while.”

Aurox had fisted his hand over his heart in a gesture he instinctively knew was ancient, though it somehow felt awkward and forced. “Yes, Priestess.”

Priestess had brushed by him, gesturing imperiously for him to follow her.

He had followed.

He’d been created to follow. To take her orders. To obey her commands.

They’d entered something Priestess had called car, and the world had flown. Priestess had commanded him to understand the workings of it.

He’d watched and learned, just as she’d commanded.

Then they’d stopped and exited the car.

The street had smelled of death and rot, corruption and filth.

“Priestess this place is not—”

“Protect me!” she’d snapped. “But do not be protective of me. I will always go where I wish, when I wish, and do exactly what I wish. It is your job, no, your purpose to defeat my enemies. It is my destiny to create enemies. Watch. React when I command you to protect. That is all I require of you.”

“Yes, Priestess,” he’d said.

The modern world was a confusing place. So many shifting sounds. So much he did not know. He would do as Priestess commanded. He would fulfill his reason for creation and—

A male had stepped out, blocking Priestess’s way.

“You way too pretty to be in this here alley so late with nothin’ but one boy keepin’ ya company.” His eyes widened, as he took in Priestess’s tattoos. “So, vampyre, you stoppin’ here to get you a little snack from this boy? How ’bout you give me that purse then you and me, we’ll talk ’bout what it’s like to be with a real man?”

Priestess sighed and sounded bored. “You’re wrong on both counts: I am not simply a vampyre, and this is no boy.”

“Hey, what you mean by that?”

Priestess ignored the man and looked over her shoulder at Aurox.

“Now you should protect me. Show me what kind of weapon I command.”

He obeyed her without conscious thought. Aurox closed on the man with no hesitation. In one swift movement, Aurox plunged his thumbs into the man’s staring eyeballs, which made the screaming begin.

The man’s terror washed over him, feeding him. As simply as drawing a breath, Aurox inhaled the pain he was causing. The power of the man’s terror swelled through him, pumping hot and cold. Aurox felt his hands hardening, changing, becoming more. What had been normal fingers became claws. He pulled them from the man’s eyes when the blood began to seep from his ears. With the borrowed power of pain and fear, Aurox lifted the man, slamming him against the wall of the nearest building.

The man screamed again.

What a wonderful, terrible thrill! Aurox felt more of the change ripple through his body. Mere human feet became cloven hooves. The muscles of his legs thickened. His chest heaved and split the shirt he had been wearing. And most wonderful of all, Aurox felt the thick deadly horns that swelled from his head.

By the time the man’s three friends ran into the alley to help him, he had stopped screaming.

Aurox dropped the man to the filth and turned to place himself between Priestess and those who might believe they could cause her harm.

“What the fuck?” The first man skidded to a halt.

“I ain’t never seen nothin’ like that,” said the second man.

Aurox was already absorbing the fear that was beginning to radiate from them. His skin pulsed with the cold fire of it.

“Is they horns? Ah, hell no! I’m outta here.” The third man turned and scurried back the way he had come. The other two began to back slowly away, eyes wide, shocked and staring.

Aurox looked to Priestess. “What is your command?” In some distant part of his mind, he wondered at the sound of his voice—how it had become so guttural, so bestial.

“Their pain makes you stronger.” Priestess looked pleased. “And different, more fierce.” She looked at the two retreating men and her full upper lip lifted in a sneer. “Isn’t that interesting . . . Kill them.”

Aurox moved so quickly the nearest man had no chance to escape. He gored him through his chest, lifting him so that he writhed and shrieked and soiled himself.

This made Aurox even more powerful.

With a mighty toss of his head, the skewered man flew into the building to land, crumpled and silent, beside the first man.

The other man didn’t run away. Instead he pulled out a long, dangerous looking knife and charged at Aurox.

Aurox feinted to the side and then, when the man overcompensated, he stomped a cloven hoof through his foot, ripping off his face as the man fell forward.

Breathing hard, Aurox stood over the bodies of his vanquished enemies. He turned to Priestess.

“Very good,” she said in her emotionless voice. “Let us leave this place before the authorities descend.”

Aurox followed her. He walked heavily, his hoofs gouging furrows in the dirty alley. He fisted his claws at his side as he tried to make sense of the emotional storm that flowed through his body, taking with it the power that had fueled his battle frenzy.

Weak. He felt weak. And more. There was something else.

“What is it?” she snapped at him when he hesitated before entering the car again.

He shook his head. “I do not know. I feel—”

She laughed. “You don’t feel at all. You’re obviously overthinking this. My knife doesn’t feel. My gun doesn’t feel. You’re my weapon; you kill. Deal with it.”

“Yes, Priestess.” Aurox got in the car and let the world speed past him. I do not think. I do not feel. I am a weapon.

—

Aurox

“Why are you standing here looking at me?” Priestess asked him, staring at him with eyes of green ice.

“I await your command, Priestess,” he said automatically, wondering how it was possible to have displeased her. They had just returned to her lair at the top of the magnificent building called Mayo. Aurox had walked to the balcony and simply stood there, quietly, gazing at Priestess.

She blew out a long breath. “I have no command for you at this moment. And must you always stare at me?”

Aurox looked away, focusing on the lights of the city and how they glittered alluringly against the night sky.

“I await your command, Priestess,” he repeated.

“Oh, by all the gods! Who would have known the Vessel created for me would be as mindless as he is beautiful?”

Aurox felt the change in the atmosphere before Darkness materialized from smoke and shadow and night.

“Mindless, beautiful, and deadly . . .”

The voice rang in his head. The enormous white bull formed fully before him. His breath was fetid, yet sweet. His gaze was horrible and wonderful at the same time. He was mystery and magick and mayhem together.

Aurox dropped to his knees before the creature.

“Get off your knees. Get up and go back there . . .” She waved her hand in a dismissive gesture toward the shadows that edged the far recesses of the rooftop.

“No, I’d rather he stayed. I enjoy gazing on my creations.”

Aurox didn’t know what to say. This creature commanded his attention, but Priestess commanded his body.

“Creations?” Priestess put a special emphasis on the last part of the word as she moved languidly toward the massive bull. “Do you often make gifts like this to your followers?”

The bull’s laughter was terrible, but Aurox noticed Priestess didn’t flinch at all—that instead she seemed to be drawn closer and closer to the creature as he spoke.

“How interesting! You are actually questioning me. Are you jealous, my heartless one?”

Priestess stroked the bull’s horn. “Do I need to be?”

The bull nuzzled her. Where his muzzle touched Priestess the silk of her gown shriveled, exposing smooth, naked flesh underneath.

“Tell me, what do you believe is the purpose of my gift to you?” The bull answered Priestess’s question with one of his own.

Priestess blinked and shook her head, as if she was confused. Then her gaze found Aurox, still on his knees. “My lord, his purpose is protection, and I am ready to do as you bid to thank you for him.”

“I will accept your lush offerings, but I must explain to you that Aurox is not simply a weapon of protection. Aurox has one purpose, and that is to create chaos.”

Priestess inhaled a deep, shocked breath. She blinked rapidly, and her gaze went from the bull to him, and then returned to the bull.

“Truly?” she asked in a soft, reverent voice. “Through this one creature I can command chaos?”

The bull’s white eyes were like a sick, setting moon. “Truly. He is, indeed, one creature, but his power is vast. He has the ability to leave disaster in his wake. He is the Vessel that is the manifestation of your deepest dreams, and are they not for utter and complete chaos?”

“Yes, oh yes,” Priestess breathed the words. She leaned against the bull’s neck, stroking his side.

“Ah, and what is it you will do with chaos now that it is at your command? Will you take down the cities of humans and rule as vampyre queen?”

Priestess’s smile was beautiful and horrible. “Not queen. Goddess.”

“Goddess? But there is a Goddess of Vampyres. You know that all too well. You used to be in her service.”

“You mean Nyx? The Goddess who allows her minions free choice and a will of their own? The Goddess who will not intercede because she believes so strongly in the myth of freewill?”

Aurox thought he could hear a smile in the beast’s voice, and wondered how that was possible. “I do mean Nyx, Goddess of Vampyres and Night. Would you use chaos to challenge her?”

“No. I would use chaos to defeat her. What if chaos threatens the very fabric of the world? Would Nyx not step in and defy her own rules to save her children? And by doing so wouldn’t the Goddess rescind her edict that grants humans freewill and betray herself? What would happen then to her divine reign if Nyx changes what is destined to be?”

“I cannot say, as that has never before happened.” The bull snorted as if in amusement. “But it is a surprisingly interesting question—and you know how much I enjoy being surprised.”

“I only hope that I can continue to surprise you over and over again, my lord.”

“Only is such a small word . . .” the bull said.

Aurox continued to kneel on the rooftop long after Priestess and the bull had departed, leaving him discarded and forgotten. He stayed where he had been left, staring up at the sky.

If you'd like to read on, just click here for another extract! (I know, I know, we spoil you don't we?)

Never Say Good-bye

Florence, December

Schuyler did not sleep the entire evening. Instead she lay awake, looking up at the crossed wooden beams on the ceiling, or out the window to the view of the Duomo, which shone a rosy gold in the dawn. Her dress was a crumpled pile of silk on the floor, next to Jack’s black tuxedo jacket. Last night, after the guests had left, after cheeks were pressed affectionately against hers in loving good-byes, and hands had blessed and patted her ring in a gesture of good luck, the new couple had floated over the cobblestone streets back to their room, buoyed by the happiness they’d found in their friends and in each other, in turns exhilarated and exhausted by the events surrounding their bonding.

In the dim light of the morning, she curled her arm through his, and he turned toward her so that they pressed against each other, his chin resting on her forehead, their legs entwined together under the linen duvet. She placed her hand on his chest to feel the steady ordered beating of his heart, and wondered when they would be able to lie like this again.

“I need to go,” Jack said, his voice still rough with sleep. He pulled her closer, and his breath tickled her ear. “I don’t want to, but I need to.” There was an unspoken apology in his words.

“I know,” Schuyler said. She had promised to be strong for him, and she would keep that promise, she would not fail him. If only tomorrow would never come; if only she could hold on to the night just a little longer. “But not yet. See, it’s still dark outside. It was the nightingale you heard, and not the lark,” she whispered, feeling just like Juliet had that morning when she’d entreated Romeo to stay with her, drowsy and loving, yet fearful for the future and what would happen next. Schuyler was trying to hold on to something precious and fragile, as if the night would be able to protect their love from the oncoming doom and heartbreak the day would bring.

She could feel Jack smile against her cheek when he recognized the line from Shakespeare. As she traced his lips with her fingers, feeling their softness, he moved his body over hers, and she moved with him until they were joined together. He placed her arms above her head, his hands gripping her wrists tightly, and when he kissed her neck, she shuddered to feel his fangs on her skin. She pulled him ever closer, clutching his fine baby-soft hair as he drank deeply from her blood.

After, his blond head rested on her shoulder, and she folded her arms around his back and held him tightly. By now, daylight was streaming into the room. There was no denying it anymore: the night was over, and it would soon be time for them to part. He gently withdrew from her embrace and kissed the wounds that were still fresh on her neck until they healed.

She watched him dress, handing him his boots and sweater. “It’ll be cold. You’ll need a new jacket,” she said, brushing off dirt from his black raincoat.

“I’ll get one when I’m back in the city,” he agreed. “Hey,” he said, when he saw her mournful face. “It’ll be all right. I’ve lived a long time and I intend to keep doing so.” He managed a quick smile. She nodded; the lump in her throat made it hard to breathe, hard to speak; but she did not want him to remember her this way. She adopted a cheerful tone and handed him his rucksack. “I put your passport in the front pocket.” Already she loved the role of bondmate, of helpmeet, of wife. He nodded his thanks and shouldered the bag, fiddling with the zipper as he tucked in the last of his books, not quite meeting her eyes. She wanted to remember him exactly as he stood, looking golden and beautiful in the morning light, his platinum hair a bit tousled, and his bright green eyes flashing in determination.

“Jack . . .” Schuyler’s resolve faltered, but she did not want to make their last moment more funereal than it had to be. “I’ll see you soon,” she said lightly.

He squeezed her hand one last time. Then Jack was gone and she was alone.

Schuyler put away her bonding dress, gently folding it into her suitcase. She was ready to forge ahead, but as she gathered her things, she realized a truth that Jack had refused to acknowledge. It was not that he was afraid of meeting his fate; it was that he would simply bow to it.

Jack will not fight Mimi. Jack will let her kill him rather than fight her.

In the clear light of day, Schuyler grasped the reality of what he was about to do.

Meeting his twin meant meeting his doom. It was not going to be all right. It was never going to be all right.

He had tried to hide it with his brave words, but Schuyler knew deep down he was marching to his end. That last night was the final night they would ever have together. Jack was going home to die.

For a moment, Schuyler wanted to scream, rend her clothing, and tear her hair in grief. But after a few shuddering sobs, she controlled herself. She wiped her tears and held herself together. She would not let it happen. She could not accept it. She would not accept it. Schuyler felt a surge of excitement fill her veins. She couldn’t let him do this to himself. Oliver had promised he would do his best to distract Mimi, and she was thankful for his efforts in securing her happiness. But this was something she had to do for herself and for her love. She had to save Jack. She had to save him from himself. His flight was leaving in a few minutes, and without thinking, she ran all the way to the airport. She would stop him somehow. He was still alive, and she planned to keep it that way.

Jack was standing on the tarmac, waiting to climb the stairs to the private jet that would take him first to Rome, then on to New York. Two black-clad Venators were waiting for him at the plane and looked at Schuyler curiously, but Jack did not look surprised to see her suddenly appear at his side.

“Schuyler . . .” He smiled. He did not ask what she was doing there. He already knew, but this time his smile was sad.

“Don’t go,” she said. I cannot let you face your fate alone. We are bonded now. We will face it together. Your destiny is mine as well. We shall live or die together. There is no other way, she sent, letting him hear the words in his head.

Jack began to shake his head, and Schuyler said fiercely, “Listen. We will find a way out of the blood trial. Come to Alexandria with me. If we are unsuccessful and you have to return to New York, then I will share your fate. If you are destroyed, then so am I, and my mother’s legacy is meaningless. I will not leave you. Do not fear the future; we will face it together.”

She could see him weighing her words, and she held her breath. Her fate—and perhaps the fate of all vampires—was in his hands. She had made her case, she had fought for him, and it was his turn now to fight for her.

Jack Force had a dark destiny before him, but Schuyler Van Alen hoped—she prayed—she believed—that together they could change it.

** S e v e n Mo n t h s L a t e r **

One
Paradiso

They left Alexandria just as the masses arrived to escape the heat of Cairo. “We always seem to be going in the wrong direction,” Schuyler said, watching the traffic crawl, inch by inch, on the opposing freeway. It was the middle of July, and the sun was high in the sky. The air-conditioning in their rented sedan barely worked, and she had to place her palms right in front of the passenger-side vents just to cool down.

“Maybe it’s the opposite. Maybe we’re actually going in the right direction this time.” Jack smiled and put a little more gas on the pedal. In comparison to the hordes descending upon the beach city, the traffic leading into the capital was light, and for Egypt, they were practically cruising, if that was the correct way to describe the chaotic scene on the highway. The Alexandria desert road was notorious for fearsome bus crashes and fatal accidents, and it was easy to see why: cars sped wildly, bobbing in and out of lanes at whim, while massive trucks looked as if they would pitch and roll every time they swerved to attain the slightest advantage. Once in a while someone would hit a random speed bump—either a huge unmarked crater or debris that had never been cleared—and traffic would screech to a halt without warning, causing a massive pileup. Schuyler was thankful Jack was a good driver; he seemed to know instinctively when to speed up or slow down, and they weaved through the careening vehicles without a scratch or near miss.

At least they weren’t driving at night, when cars didn’t even have their headlights on, since Egyptian drivers believed headlights burned through gas too quickly, and so made do without them. It was fine for vampires, of course, but Schuyler always worried for the poor humans who were barreling through in the dark—driving blind, like bats fluttering in a cave.

For seven months, she and Jack had lived in Alexandria, wandering through the picturesque cafés and airy museums. The city had been designed to rival Rome and Athens at their height. Cleopatra had made it the seat of her throne, and while there were a few traces of the ancient outpost still visible—a scattering of sphinxes, statues, and obelisks—there was actually very little that remained of the ancient world in the bustling metropolis.

When they’d first arrived, Schuyler had been filled with hope, and heartened by Jack’s faith and presence, she was certain they would soon find what they sought. Florence had been a decoy, and Alexandria was the only other possibility regarding the true location of the Gate of Promise according to her grandfather’s files, which had documented Catherine of Siena’s travels from Rome to the Red Sea. Schuyler’s mother had trusted her with the family legacy: to find and protect the remaining Gates of Hell, which kept the world safe from the demons of the underworld.

They had checked in to the Cecil Hotel, a favorite of Somerset Maugham’s and one that had been popular during the British Colonial era. Schuyler had been charmed by the 1930s-style caged elevator and its splendid marble lobby, which oozed old Hollywood grandeur. She could imagine Marlene Dietrich arriving with a dozen trunks, a footman to carry her feather-trimmed hats alone.

Schuyler began her search at the Bibliotheca Alexandrina, an attempt to recreate the great library that had been lost over two thousand years ago (or so the Red Bloods thought. as the library still existed in the New York Coven’s Repository of History). Like the original institution, the grounds of the Bibliotheca sprawled to include acres of gardens, as well as a planetarium and a conference center. A wealthy and secretive local matron had been instrumental in its foundation, and Schuyler had been certain she had found Catherine at last. But when they visited the grand patroness in her elegant salon overlooking the Eastern Harbor, it was obvious from the beginning that she was human, and no Enmortal, as she was sick and dying, lying in a bed, attached to a series of tubes.

As she and Jack had walked out of the elderly woman’s room, Schuyler felt the first flicker of anxiety that she was letting down not only her beloved grandfather and her enigmatic mother, but also the boy she so dearly loved. So far, finding the gatekeeper was turning out to be a difficult—if not impossible—task. Jack did not say anything that day, nor had he ever voiced any regret at his decision. Back in Florence, at the airport, he had escaped from the Venators and accepted her challenge, agreeing to her plan. She did not want to fail him. She’d promised she would find a way out of the blood trial, a way for them to be together, and she would. The gatekeeper, Catherine of Siena, would help them, if only Schuyler could find her.

Their life in Egypt had settled into a comfortable routine. Tired of hotel living, they’d rented a small house near the beach and concentrated on blending in as best they could. Most of their neighbors left the young good-looking foreigners alone. Perhaps they sensed the vampire strength behind their friendly smiles.

In the mornings, Schuyler would comb the library, reading books on the Roman era, when Catherine was first tasked with the charge of keeper, and matching it to the files from Lawrence’s journal. Jack took on the footwork, using his Venator training to zero in on any clues as to her whereabouts, walking the city, talking to the locals. Enmortals were charismatic and unforgettable beings—Lawrence Van Alen had been very popular during his exile in Venice, and Schuyler was betting that Catherine, or whatever she called herself these days, was the same: a magnetic personality whom no one could easily forget. In the late afternoons, Jack would stop by the library, and they would head to a café for lunch, sharing plates of mulukhiya stew over rice or spicy khoshary, and then return to their duties. They lived like locals, having dinner at midnight, sipping fragrant anise tea until the wee hours of the morning.

Alex, as everyone calls the city, is a resort town, and as spring arrived and a breeze blew in from the Mediterranean, buses and boatloads of tourists arrived to fill the hotels and beaches. Their seven months together was sort of a honeymoon, Schuyler would realize later. A small slice of heaven, a brief and bright delay of the dark days that lay ahead. Their marriage was still young enough that they celebrated every month they were together, marking the time with little gestures, little gifts to each other: a small bracelet made of shells for her, a first edition of Hemingway for him. If Schuyler could keep Jack at her side, she believed she could keep him safe. Her love for him was a shield that would keep him whole.

Even as their relationship grew stronger and deeper, and they began to ease into the comfort of daily bonded life,
Schuyler’s heart still skipped a beat every time she saw him lying next to her. She would admire the silhouette of his back, the fine sculpture of his shoulder blades. Later, reflecting on their time in the city, she would wonder if somehow she had known what would happen, how it would end; as if no matter what happened in Egypt, whether she found Catherine or not, whether they were successful or not, she had known from the beginning that their time together would not last; that it could not last, and they were only lying to themselves and each other.

So she tucked her memories away for safekeeping: the way he looked at her when he undressed her, as he slowly pulled down a silk camisole strap. His stare was voracious, and she would be sickened with desire, she wanted him so much. The bright fire she felt was matched by the intensity of his gaze—just like the first time he had flirted with her in front of that nightclub in New York, and the dizzying rush of infatuation she’d experienced the first time they’d danced together, the first time they’d kissed, the first time they’d met for a covert tryst in his Perry Street apartment. The strong yet gentle way he held her when he performed the Caerimonia Osculor. In the days that would come, she would replay these moments in her mind, like photographs she would remove from her wallet and look at again and again. But in the present, at night when they lay together, his body warm next to hers, when she pressed her lips against his skin, it felt as if they would never be apart, that what she feared would never come to be.

Maybe she was crazy to think it would last, that any of it—their love, their joy together—would hold, given the darkness that had been part of their union from the beginning. And later she would wish she had enjoyed it more, that she had spent less time poring through books, spending hours in the library alone, less time removing his arms from her waist, telling him to wait, or missing dinner so that she could go over the papers again and again. She would wish for one more night spent in a roadside café, holding hands under the table; one more morning sharing the newspaper. She would cherish the small moments of togetherness, the two of them sitting side by side in bed, just the simple touch of his hand on her knee sending shivers up her spine. She would remember Jack reading his books, lifting his eyeglasses—his vision had been bothering him lately, the sand and the pollution causing his eyes to water.

If only they could have stayed in Alex forever—walking the gardens full of flowers, watching the hip crowds at San Stefano. Schuyler, who had been hopeless in the kitchen, enjoyed the ease with which a meal could be prepared. She had learned to put together a proper feast, buying premade platters of kobeba and sambousek, accompanied by tahini and tamiya, chopped salads and a roasted leg of lamb or veal, stuffed pigeon and fish sayadeya and chicken pane from the local market. Their life reminded her a little of her year with Oliver, and she felt a small pang at that. Her dearest, sweetest friend. She wished there was a way to still retain their friendship—he had been so gallant at her bonding—but they had not exchanged a word since he’d returned to New York. Oliver had told her a little of what was happening back home, and she worried about him, and hoped he was keeping himself safe now that she was not there to make sure he was doing so. She missed Bliss as well, and hoped her friend—her sister—would find a way to fulfill her part of their mother’s destiny somehow.

As the months passed, Schuyler worked every angle, made more wrong guesses, and met more women who did not turn out to be Catherine. She and Jack didn’t talk about what would happen if they failed. And so the days slipped by, like sand through her fingers, grit in the air, and then it was summer. News trickled in slowly of the world they had left behind—that the Covens were in chaos—reports of burnings and mysterious attacks. And with Charles still missing and Allegra disappeared, there was no one to lead the fight. No one knew what was to become of the vampires, and still Schuyler and Jack were no closer to finding the keeper.

Before they left Florence, they had ordered the Petruvian priests to keep MariElena safe, to let the young girl who had been taken by the Croatan carry her pregnancy to term. Ghedi had given them his word that the girl would not come to any harm under their care. Schuyler still did not believe what the Petruvians swore was true, that the Blue Bloods had ordered the slaughter of innocent women and children in order to keep the bloodline pure. There had to be another reason for it—something had gone wrong in the history of the world—and once they found Catherine, the gatekeeper who had founded the Petruvian Order, she would tell them the truth.

But as the days dragged on and still they did not find the keeper or the gate, Schuyler began to feel discouraged and lethargic. It did not help that it had been a long time since she had used her fangs. She had not taken a familiar since Oliver, and every day she felt less of her vampire self and more human, more vulnerable.

Meanwhile, Jack was growing thin, and dark circles had formed under his eyes. She knew he was having trouble sleeping at night. He would toss and turn, murmuring under his breath. She began to worry that he thought she was a coward for asking him to stay.

“No, you are wrong. It is a brave thing that you did, to stand up to your beloved,” he’d said, reading her mind as usual. “You will find Catherine. I have faith in you.”

But finally Schuyler had to admit defeat—that she had read her grandfather’s documents incorrectly. She had to accept that Alexandria was another decoy, another red herring. They had walked the city’s dark alleys and haunted its bright new megamalls, but had found nothing, and the trail was cold. They were as stumped as they had been in the beginning, when they first left New York.

Their last night in the city, Schuyler had studied the documents again, re-reading the section that had made her believe the elusive gate was located in Alexandria.

“‘On the shore of the river of gold, the victor’s city shall once again rise on the threshold of the Gate of Promise.’” Schuyler looked at Jack. “Hold on. I think I’m on to something.” When she’d first read the passage she had immediately thought of Alexander the Great, the conqueror of the ancient world, and she’d been certain that the gate was located in the city to which he had given his name. But during her seven months in Egypt, she had learned a little Arabic, and the answer was so clear she immediately berated herself for wasting so much time.

“Cairo—Al-Qahira—literally translates to mean victorious.” The victorious city. The victor’s city. She told Jack as her heart beat in excitement, “The gate is in Cairo.”

They left in the morning.

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CHAPTER 1 – The Kids Are All Right

When the final bell sounded at Bryce Hamilton, Xavier and I gathered our things and headed out onto the south lawn. The weather forecast had predicted a clear afternoon, but the sun was fighting an uphill battle and the sky remained a cheerless, gunmetal gray. Occasionally the watery sunlight broke through and fingers of light danced across the grounds, warming the back of my neck.

“Are you coming over for dinner tonight?” I asked Xavier, linking my arm through his. “Gabriel wants to try making burritos.”

Xavier looked across at me and laughed.

“What’s funny?”

“I’m just thinking,” he said. “How come in all the paintings, angels are depicted guarding thrones in Heaven or taking out demons? I wonder why they’re never shown in the kitchen making burritos.”

“Because we have a reputation to uphold,” I said, nudging him. “So are you coming?”

“Can’t.” Xavier sighed. “I promised my kid sister I’d stay home and carve pumpkins.”

“Shoot. I keep forgetting about Halloween.”

“You should try and get into the spirit of it,” Xavier said. “Everyone around here takes it very seriously.”

I knew he wasn’t exaggerating; jack-o’-lanterns and plaster headstones already adorned every front porch in town in honor of the occasion.

“I know,” I said. “But the whole idea creeps me out. Why would anyone want to dress up as ghosts and zombies? It’s like everyone’s worst nightmares coming to life.”

“Beth.” Xavier stopped walking and took hold of my shoulders. “It’s a holiday, lighten up!”

He was right. I needed to stop being so wary. It was six months now since the ordeal with Jake Thorn and things couldn’t have been better. Peace had returned to Venus Cove and I’d grown more attached to the place than ever. Nestled on the picturesque Georgia coastline, the sleepy little town in Sherbrooke County had become my home. With its pretty balconies and ornate shopfronts, Main Street was so quaint it could have been an image on a postcard. In fact, everything from the cinema to the old courthouse exuded the Southern charm and gentility of a long-forgotten era.

Over the past year the influence of my family had spread and transformed Venus Cove into a model town. The church congregation had tripled in numbers, charity missions had more volunteers than they could handle, and reported incidents of crime were so few and far between that the sheriff was forced to find other things to occupy his time. Nowadays the only disputes that happened were minor, like drivers arguing over who saw a parking space first. But that was just human nature. It couldn’t be changed and it wasn’t our job to try and change it.

But the best development of all was that Xavier and I had grown even closer. I looked across at him. He was just as breathtakingly beautiful as ever. His tie hung loose and his blazer was slung casually over one shoulder. I could feel his taut body occasionally brushing against mine as we walked side by side, our footsteps falling in time. Sometimes it was easy to think of us as one entity.

Since the violent encounter with Jake last year, Xavier had hit the gym even harder and thrown himself into sports more vigorously. I knew he was doing it so he’d be better equipped to protect me, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t enjoy the perks. Xavier had more definition in his chest and washboard abs. He was still slender and perfectly proportioned, but I could see the muscles in his arms rippling beneath the fine cotton of his shirt. I looked up at his refined features: his straight nose, high cheekbones, and full lips. In the light of the sun, his walnut-colored hair was streaked with gold and his almond-shaped eyes were like liquid blue topaz. On his ring finger he now wore the gift I’d given him after he had helped me recover from Jake’s attack. It was a thick silver band etched with three symbols of faith: a five-point star to represent the star of Bethlehem; a trefoil to honor the three persons of the Holy Trinity; and the initials IHS, an abbreviation of Ihesus, the way Christ’s name was spelled in the Middle Ages. I’d had an identical one made for me and I liked to think they were our special version of a promise ring. Another person who’d witnessed as much as Xavier had might have lost all faith in Our Father, but Xavier had strength of mind and spirit. He’d made a commitment to us and I knew that nothing could persuade him to break it.

My train of thought was broken when we bumped into a group of Xavier’s friends from the water-polo team in the parking lot. I knew some of them by name and caught the tail end of their conversation.

“I can’t believe Wilson hooked up with Kay Bentley,” a boy named Lawson snickered. He was still bleary-eyed from whatever misadventure had taken place over the weekend. I knew from experience it probably involved a keg and willful damage to property.

“It’s his funeral,” someone muttered. “Everyone knows she’s done more miles than my dad’s vintage Chrysler.”

“I don’t care so long as it wasn’t on my bed. I’d have to burn everything.”

“Don’t worry, man, pretty sure they were out on the back lawn.”

“I was so wasted, I don’t remember a damn thing,” Lawson declared.

“I remember you tried to hook up with me,” replied a boy named Wesley in his lilting accent. He contorted his face into a grimace.

“Whatever . . . it was dark. You could do a lot worse.”

“Not funny,” Wesley growled. “Someone posted a picture on Facebook. What am I gonna tell Jess?”

“Tell her you couldn’t resist Lawson’s ripped body.” Xavier thumped his friend on the back as he sauntered past. “He’s really built from all those hours on the PlayStation.”

I laughed as Xavier pulled open the door of his sky blue Chevy Bel Air convertible. I climbed in, stretched out, and breathed in the familiar smell of the leather seats. I loved the car almost as much as Xavier did now. It had been with us from the very beginning, from our first date at Sweethearts Café to the showdown with Jake Thorn at the cemetery. Though I’d never admit it, I’d come to think of the Chevy as having a personality of its own. Xavier turned the key in the ignition and the car roared to life. They seemed to move in sync—as if they were attuned to each other.

“So have you come up with a costume yet?”

“For what?” I asked blankly.

Xavier shook his head. “For Halloween. Try to keep up!”

“Not yet,” I admitted. “I’m still working on it. What about you?”

“How do you feel about Batman?” Xavier asked with a wink. “I’ve always wanted to be a superhero.”

“You just want to pretend you drive a Batmobile.”

Xavier gave a guilty smile. “Damn it! You know me too well.”

When we reached number 15 Byron Street, Xavier leaned across and pressed his lips against mine. His kiss was soft and sweet. I felt the outside world fall away as I melted into him. His skin was smooth beneath my fingers and his scent, fresh and clean as ocean air, enveloped me. It was mingled with a touch of something stronger—like vanilla and sandalwood combined. I kept one of Xavier’s T‑shirts, dowsed in his cologne, under my pillow so that every night I could imagine he was with me. It was funny how the goofiest behavior could feel perfectly natural when you were in love. I knew there were people who rolled their eyes at Xavier and me, but if they did, we were too absorbed in each other’s company to notice.

When Xavier pulled away from the curb, I snapped back to reality, like someone waking from a deep sleep.

“I’ll pick you up tomorrow morning,” he called out with a dreamy smile. “Usual time.”

I stood in our tangled front yard watching until the Chevy finally turned off at the end of the street.

Byron was still my haven and I loved retreating there. Everything was soothingly familiar, from the creaking steps on the front porch to the large and airy rooms inside. It felt like a safe cocoon away from the turbulence of the world. It was true to say that while I loved human life, it scared me sometimes. The earth had problems—problems almost too large and too complex to fully comprehend. Thinking about them made my head spin. It also made me feel ineffectual. But Ivy and Gabriel had told me to stop wasting my energy and focus on our mission. There were plans for us to visit other cities and towns in the vicinity of Venus Cove to expel any dark forces residing there. Little did we know they would find us before we had a chance to find them.

Dinner was already underway when I got home. My brother and sister were out on the deck. They were each engaged in solitary activities; Ivy had her nose in a book and Gabriel was deep in concentration, composing on his guitar. His expert fingers massaged the chords gently and they seemed to answer his silent command. I joined them and knelt down to pat my dog, Phantom, who was sleeping soundly with his head resting on his giant, silky paws. He stirred at my touch, his
silvery body as sleek as ever. He looked up at me with his sad, moonlight eyes, and I imagined his expression to say: Where have you been all day?

Ivy lay semi-recumbent in the hammock, her golden hair flowing down to her waist. It looked resplendent in the light of the setting sun. My sister didn’t quite know how to relax in a hammock; she looked too poised and reminded me of a mythical creature who had somehow found herself unceremoniously plonked in a world that made no sense to her. She was wearing a pastel blue muslin dress and had even set up a frilly parasol, to protect her from the fading sunlight. No doubt she’d found it in some vintage shop and couldn’t resist buying it.

“Where did you get that?” I laughed. “I think they went out of fashion a while ago.”

“Well, I think it’s charming,” said Ivy, laying down the novel she’d been reading. I took a peek at the cover.

“Jane Eyre?” I asked dubiously. “You do know it’s a love story, right?”

“I’m aware,” said my sister huffily.

“You’re turning into me!” I teased.

“I highly doubt I could ever be as swooning and silly as you are,” Ivy replied in a matter-of-fact tone but her eyes were playful.

Gabriel stopped strumming his guitar to look over at us. “I don’t think anybody could outdo Bethany in that department,” he said with a smile. He put down his guitar carefully and went to lean against the railing, staring out to sea. As usual Gabe stood arrow straight, his white-blond hair pulled back in a ponytail. His steel gray eyes and his sculpted features made him look like the celestial warrior he was—but he was dressed like a human in faded jeans and a loose shirt. His face was open and friendly. I was pleased to see that Gabriel was more relaxed these days. I felt as if both my siblings were less critical of me, more accepting of the choices I’d made.

“How is it you always get home before me?” I complained. “When I take a car and you walk!”

“I have my ways,” my brother replied with a secretive smile. “Besides, I don’t have to pull over every two minutes to express my affection.”

“We do not pull over to express affection!” I objected.

Gabriel raised an eyebrow. “So that wasn’t Xavier’s car parked two blocks from school?”

“Maybe it was.” I tossed my head nonchalantly, hating how he was always right. “But every two minutes is a slight exaggeration!”

Ivy’s heart-shaped face glowed as she broke into a laugh. “Oh, Bethany, relax. We’re used to the PDAs by now.”

“Where did you learn that?” I asked curiously. I’d never heard Ivy use abbreviated colloquialisms. Her formal speech usually sounded so out of place in the modern world.

“I do spend time with young people, you know,” she said. “I’m trying to be hip.”

Gabriel and I burst out laughing.

“In that case, don’t say hip for starters,” I advised.

Ivy leaned down to ruffle my hair affectionately and changed the subject. “I hope you don’t have plans for this weekend.”

“Can Xavier come?” I asked eagerly before she’d even had a chance to explain what she and Gabe had in mind. Xavier had long become a fixture in my life. Even when we were apart, it seemed there was no activity or distraction that could keep my thoughts from straying back to him.

Gabriel pointedly rolled his eyes. “If he must.”

“Of course he must,” I said, grinning. “So what’s the plan?”

“There’s a town called Black Ridge twenty miles from here,” my brother said. “We’ve been told they’re experiencing some . . . disturbances.”

“You mean demonic disturbances?”

“Well, three girls have gone missing in the last month and a perfectly sound bridge collapsed onto passing traffic.”

I winced. “Sounds like our kind of problem. When do we leave?”

“Saturday,” Ivy said. “So you better rest up.”

CHAPTER 2 - Co-Dependent

The next day Molly and I sat with the girls in the west courtyard, which had become our new favorite hangout. Molly had changed since the loss of her best friend the year before. Taylah’s death at the hands of Jake Thorn had been a wake-up call for my family. We had not foreseen the extent of Jake’s powers until the day he’d slit her throat to send us a message.

Since then Molly had drifted away from her old circle of friends and out of a sense of loyalty, I’d gone along with her. I didn’t mind the switch. I knew Bryce Hamilton must now be full of painful memories for Molly and I wanted to support her in every way I could. Besides, our new group was more or less the same as the old one. These were girls we’d hung out with on occasion but never become close with. They knew all the same people and gossiped about the same things, so becoming integrated into their group was easy as pie.

Things were strained in the group that had once included Taylah, and I knew Molly couldn’t really relax with them. Occasionally, out of the blue, conversations would come to an awkward halt. The kind of pause where you knew everyone was thinking the same thing: What would Taylah say right now? But no one had the courage to speak her name out loud. I had a feeling things would never be quite the same for these girls. They’d tried to make things go back to normal, but most of the time it felt as if they were trying too hard. They laughed too loudly and their jokes sounded rehearsed. It seemed that whatever they said or did, they were constantly reminded of Taylah’s absence. Taylah and Molly had been at the very core of the group, self-appointed authorities on so many things. Now Taylah was gone and Molly was completely withdrawn. The other girls had lost both their mentors and were completely adrift without them.

It was hard watching them struggle collectively with their grief; a grief they couldn’t articulate for fear of unleashing emotion they couldn’t control. I so badly wanted to tell them not to see death as an end but as a new beginning and explain to them that Taylah had simply crossed to a new plane of existence, one that was unencumbered by physicality.  I wanted them to know that Taylah was out there still, only now she was free. I wanted to tell them about Heaven and the peace she would find there. But, of course, sharing any of that knowledge was impossible. Not only would I be breaking our most sacred code and exposing our presence on earth, but I’d also be instantly kicked out of the group for being a lunatic.

Our newly adopted friends huddled around a cluster of carved wooden benches beneath a stone archway that they’d claimed as their own. One thing that hadn’t changed was their territorial nature. If any outsiders accidentally strayed into our area, they didn’t linger long. The glaring looks of disapproval that flew in their direction were usually enough to drive them away. Gray clouds rolled ominously overhead, but the girls never went inside unless there was absolutely no alternative. As usual they sat with their hair perfectly coiffed and their skirts hitched up, soaking up the weak rays of sunlight that dipped and wavered behind the clouds, washing the courtyard in a soft, dappled light. Any opportunity to work on their tans could not be missed.

The Halloween party on Friday had served to lift everyone’s spirits and generate a lot of excitement. It was being held at an abandoned estate just out of town that belonged to the family of one of the seniors, Austin Knox. His great-grandfather Thomas Knox had built the house in 1868, several years after the Civil War ended. He was one of the town’s original founders and although the Knox family hadn’t visited the place in years, historical landmark laws protected it from demolition. So it had remained vacant and uninhabited over the years. It was a run-down, old country homestead with deep porches on every side, surrounded by nothing but fields and a deserted highway. The locals called it the Boo Radley House—nobody ever went in or out—and Austin claimed he’d even seen his great-grandfather’s ghost standing at one of the upstairs windows. According to Molly, it was perfect party material; nobody ever passed that way except for people who’d taken a wrong turn on a road trip or the occasional trucker. Plus, it was well enough away from town that nobody could complain about the noise. It had originally started out as a small gathering, but word had somehow gotten out and now the whole school was talking about it. Even some of the better-connected sophomores had managed to score an invite.

I sat next to Molly, whose titian curls were wound on top of her head in a loose bun. Without makeup she had the face of a china doll with wide sky blue eyes and rosebud lips. She couldn’t resist a slick of lip gloss, but aside from that, she’d pared everything back in her attempt to win favor with Gabriel. I’d expected by now she’d be over the hopeless crush she had on my brother, but so far her feelings for him only seemed to have intensified.

I preferred Molly without makeup; I liked the way she looked her age rather than someone ten years older.

“I’m going as a naughty schoolgirl,” Abigail announced.

“In other words you’re going as yourself?” Molly said with a snort.

“Let’s hear your great idea then. . . .”

“I’m going as Tinker Bell.”

“As who?”

“The fairy from Peter Pan.”

“This isn’t fair,” Madison whined. “We made a pact to all go as Playboy Bunnies!”

“Bunnies are old.” Molly tossed her head. “Not to mention trashy.”

“I’m sorry,” I interrupted, “but aren’t the costumes supposed to be scary?”

“Oh, Bethie,” Savannah said with a sigh. “Have we taught you nothing?”

I smiled sheepishly. “Refresh my memory?”

“Basically the whole thing is just one massive—,” Hallie began.

“Let’s just say it’s an opportunity for us to mingle with the opposite sex,” Molly cut in, shooting Hallie a sharp look. “Your costume needs to be scary and sexy.”

“Did you know Halloween used to be about Samhain?” I said. “People were really scared of it.”

“Who’s Sam Hen?” Hallie looked baffled.

“Not who . . . what,” I said. “It’s different in every culture. But essentially, people believe it’s the one night of the year when the world of the dead meets the world of the living; when the dead can walk among us and possess our bodies. People would dress up to trick them into staying away.”

The group stared at me with newfound respect.

“Oh my God, Bethie.” Savannah shivered. “Way to freak us all out.”

“Do you remember when we had that séance in seventh grade?” Abigail asked. The others nodded enthusiastically as they recalled the event.

“You had a what!” I spluttered, barely able to disguise my disbelief.

“A séance, it’s when you . . .”

“I know what it is,” I said. “But you shouldn’t mess around with that stuff.”

“I told you, Abby!” Hallie exclaimed. “I told you it was dangerous. Remember how the door slammed shut?”

“Yeah, only because your mom shut it,” Madison hit back. “She couldn’t have. She was in bed asleep the whole time.”

“Whatever. I’m thinking we should try it again on Friday.” Abigail waggled her eyebrows mischievously. “What do you say, girls? Who’s in?”

“Not me,” I said resolutely. “I’m not getting mixed up in that.”

The looks they exchanged suggested they were unconvinced by my refusal.

“They ’re so childish,” I complained to Xavier as we walked to French class together. Doors slammed, announcements rang over the loudspeaker, and chatter flowed freely around us, but Xavier and I were locked in our own world. “They want to hold a séance and go dressed as bunnies.”

“What kind of bunnies?” he asked suspiciously. “Playboy, I think. Whatever that means.”

“That sounds about right.” Xavier laughed. “But don’t let them talk you into anything you don’t feel comfortable with.”

“They’re my friends.”

“So what?” He shrugged. “If your friends walked off a cliff, would you do it too?”

“Why would they walk off a cliff?” I asked in alarm. “Is someone having problems at home?”

Xavier laughed. “It’s just an expression.”

“It’s silly,” I told him. “Do you think I should go as an angel? Like in the film version of Romeo and Juliet?”

“There would be a certain irony in that,” Xavier said, smirking. “An angel posing as a human posing as an angel. I like it.” Mr. Collins glared at us as we arrived and took our seats. He seemed to resent our closeness and I couldn’t
help but wonder whether his history of three failed marriages had left him a little jaded about love.

“I hope the two of you will descend from your love bubble long enough to learn something today,” he sniped cuttingly and the other kids snickered. Embarrassed, I ducked my head to avoid eye contact with them.

“It’s all right, sir,” Xavier replied. “The bubble’s been engineered to allow us to learn from within it.”

“You’re very amusing, Woods,” Mr. Collins said. “But the classroom is not the place for romance. When it all ends in heartbreak, your grades will pay the price. L’amour est comme un sablier, avec le coeur remplir le vide du cerveau.”

I recognized the quote from the French writer Jules Renard. Translated it meant: “Love is like an hourglass, with the heart filling up as the brain empties.” I hated his smug certainty, as if he knew for a fact our relationship was doomed. I opened my mouth to protest, but Xavier touched my hand under the table and leaned across to whisper in my ear.

“It’s probably not the best idea to get fresh with the teachers who’ll be grading our final papers.”

He turned back to Mr. Collins, putting on his best class-president voice. “We understand, sir, thanks for your concern.”

Mr. Collins looked satisfied and went back to writing subjunctive verbs on the blackboard. I couldn’t resist poking my tongue out at his back.

Hallie and Savannah, who were also in my French class, caught up with me at the lockers. They looped their arms affably through mine. 

“What have you got now?” Hallie asked.

“Math,” I replied suspiciously. “Why?”

“Perfect,” Savannah said. “Walk with us.”

“Is something wrong?”

“We just want to talk to you. Y’know, have a girl-to-girl chat.”

“Okay,” I said slowly, wracking my brain to think what I might have done to warrant this strange intervention. “About?”

“It’s about you and Xavier,” Hallie blurted out. “Look, you’re not gonna like hearing this, but we’re your friends and we’re worried about you.”

“Why are you worried?”

“It’s just not healthy for you guys to spend so much time together,” Hallie said expertly.

“Yeah,” Savannah chimed in. “It’s like you’re joined at the hip or something. I never see you apart. Wherever Xavier is, you’re right behind him. Wherever you are, he’s there . . . all the frigging time.”

“Is that that a bad thing?” I asked. “He’s my boyfriend; I want to spend time with him.”

“Of course you do, but it’s too much. You need to get some distance.” Hallie emphasized the word distance as if it were a
medical term.

“Why?” I looked at them dubiously, wondering if Molly had put them up to this or if it truly was their personal opinion.  I’d been friends with these girls all through summer, but it still felt a little early for them to be dispensing relationship advice. On the other hand, I’d only been a teenage girl for less than a year. In some way, I felt I was at the mercy of their experience. It was true that Xavier and I were close, any fool could see that. The question was, were we unnaturally close? It didn’t feel unhealthy given everything we’d been through together. Of course, these girls could never know about our struggles.

“It’s a researched fact,” Savannah broke through my train of thought. “Look, I can show you.” She reached into her bag and yanked out a well-thumbed copy of Seventeen magazine. “We found a quiz for you to take.”

She opened the glossy cover and flipped to a dog-eared page. The image showed a young couple sitting in chairs facing opposite directions but bound together by chains around their waists and ankles. The expression on their faces was one of confusion and dismay. The quiz was called, “Are you in a codependent relationship?”

“We’re not that bad,” I protested. “It’s about how we feel, not how much time we spend together. Besides, I don’t think a magazine quiz can measure feelings.”

“Seventeen gives pretty reliable advice—,” began Savannah hotly.

“Okay, don’t take the quiz,” Hallie cut in. “Just answer a few questions, okay?”

“Shoot,” I said. “What’s your favorite football team?”

“Dallas Cowboys,” I said without hesitation.

“And why’s that?” Hallie asked.

“Because it’s Xavier’s favorite team.”

“I see,” Hallie said knowingly. “And when was the last time you did something without Xavier?” I didn’t like the way she sounded like the prosecutor in a court case.

 “I do plenty of stuff without Xavier,” I said dismissively. “Really? So where is he right now?”

“He has a first-aid training session in the gym,” I said brightly. “They’re going over CPR, but he already learned it in ninth grade during a water-safety program.”

“Right,” Savannah said. “And what’s he doing at lunch?”

“He has a water-polo meeting,” I replied. “They have a new junior that Xav wants to train to play defense.”

“And dinner?”

“He’s coming over to make barbecue ribs.”

“Since when do you like ribs?” The girls raised their eyebrows.

“Xavier likes them.”

“I rest my case.” Hallie put her face in her hands.

“Okay, I guess we do spend a lot of time together,” I said grumpily. “But what’s wrong with that?”

“It’s not normal is what’s wrong with it,” Savannah declared, enunciating every word. “Your girlfriends are just as important. “It’s like we don’t even matter to you anymore. All the girls feel the same, even Molly.”

I stopped short. Finally the fog lifted and the purpose of this discussion became clear to me. The girls were feeling neglected. It was true that I always seemed to be declining their invitations to go out in favor of spending time with Xavier. I’d always thought I just preferred spending downtime with my family, but maybe I had been insensitive without realizing it. I valued their friendship and on the spot vowed to be more attentive.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “Thanks for being honest with me. I promise I’ll do better.”

“Great.” Hallie beamed. “Well, you can start by joining in the girls-only event we’ve got planned for the Halloween party.”

“Of course,” I agreed, eager to make amends. “I’d love to.

What is it?” I had the sense even before I’d finished the question that I was on the brink of falling into a trap.

“We’re going to commune with the dead, remember?” Savannah said. “No boys allowed.”

“A séance,” Hallie said brightly. “How awesome is that?”

“Awesome,” I reiterated flatly. I could think of plenty of words to describe what they had in mind, but awesome just wasn’t one of them.

Love the freaky and fabulous world of Monster High, where your best friend is a descendant of Dracula and you can fearlead alongside a ghoul? 

For all those who know that freak is the new chic, just answer our simple question below in order to win your very own Clawdeen Wolf doll, plus a complete set of all three Monster High Books:

What is the name of Clawdeen Wolf's pet?

a) Chrissie

b) Crescent

c) Hissette

Just email us at atom@littlebrown.co.uk (putting Clawdeen comp in the subject heading) with your answer. 

The three runners up will receive sets of the three books.

This competition is only open to residents of the UK and closes on the 14th  October – please click here to see our full terms and conditions.

Take a walk on the wild side!

Here, Malinda Lo, author of Huntress, has chosen some absolutely brilliant titles…we'd love to know what you think of them!

The Blue Sword by Robin McKinley

I first read this novel when I was 12 or 13, and I've reread it countless times since then. I was entranced from the get-go by McKinley's descriptions of the desert, and the golden-eyed king with the beautiful horses. Harry Crewe, too, is one of my favorite heroines of all time because she is truly brave, and she gets to have a great training montage! I love a good training montage. Also, I love Corlath. He's so very kingly.

A Ring of Endless Light by Madeleine L'Engle

I also read this novel when I was a teen, and it has so much to say about life and death and faith. It's about Vicky Austin, who at 15 spends a summer at her grandfather's house while he is dying of leukemia. Vicky is a wonderful girl: curious and serious and sincere. Also, she gets to swim with dolphins and fall in love with Adam Eddington, who is awesome.

The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins

I was totally floored by this book when I first read it, and I was floored again the second and third times, too. Collins does so many things well in this novel: the first person present-tense narrative is perfect for this story; the plot is structured so finely around the competition itself; the made-for-TV love triangle is advanced with incredible finesse. All of these are things I admire from a writerly perspective, but from a reader's perspective, I love the fact that this book is a thrill-ride that also involves cultural critique of the media. All my geek buttons get pushed at once!

Northern Lights by Philip Pullman

The first time I read this book I remember being breathless with excitement as Lyra traveled across the north on the back of the polar bear. It was so thrilling and different, and the world was so intricately drawn. That's what amazes me the most about the whole His Dark Materials trilogy: the worldbuilding is incredible. And the love story that blossoms over the course of the trilogy is just heartbreaking. I don't know if I will ever be able to read the third book again because I basically cried for half an hour at the end of it. But that's the sign of a great book, right?

Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire by J.K. Rowling

I love Goblet of Fire the most out of the seven books in the Harry Potter series, probably because I'm a sucker for stories centered on a competition. I also love it because it's when the characters start to really come into their adolescence, and teen love in the Harry Potter series is hilarious (in a good way). Rowling is so adept at working with her giant cast and making each one seem fully fleshed out, even if they play only minor parts.

What do you think fledglings?

Next up to share his choices is Tom Clempson, author of One Seriously Messed-Up Week. Don't our authors have good taste! (Not that we're surprised, obvs.)

The Princess Bride by William Goldman: It’s your average ‘Stable boy falls for farm girl, farm girl falls for stable boy, he becomes a pirate, she becomes a princess, and an adventure-filled mission ensues to reunite them’ story, and I can guarantee that every time I write a list of my favourite books, this will be in there. Probably at the top. It is hands down my favourite book of all time. I recently encouraged some friends to read it, but most of the verdicts that came back were ‘meh’, which absolutely baffles me, in a ‘pull your hair out, eat the wallpaper and name your gerbil Judith’ kind of way (maybe I overhyped it?). To me this is one of those ‘How can you not love it?!’ books. It’s witty, adventurous, sharp and also a little bit swashbuckly. And, (dare I say it?), even better than the film. Has inspired me in so many ways.

How I Live Now by Meg Rosoff: When it came to choosing a ‘new’ YA book (and when I say ‘new’ I mean ‘within the last 10 years’) I knew it was going to be impossible to choose, so I switched my brain to ‘shuffle’ and this is what popped up. And so it should. I’ve only read it once (I’m usually a big re-reader), and it was over five years ago, yet still it’s at the forefront of my mind. It’s told in the first person by Daisy, an American girl with attitude, who is sent to live with her cousins in rural England. A girly (and weirdly incestuous) romance soon gives way to violence and survival when England becomes occupied in a present day-ish world war three. Charming, shocking and haunting. Impossible to forget.

Check out what our other authors have chosen too…you can find all the posts on our homepage!

Christi's book, Night School, will be in shops early 2012 – click here to find out more.

When I was 15 I really got into S.E. Hinton – who wrote The Outsiders and Rumblefish. Rumblefish in particular just blew me away – its characters were so creative and, because of what was going on with my own family at the time, I could relate to their fractured families and financially squeezed lives. I was madly in love with Rusty James — he was such a rebel. When somebody makes a promise to me today I still quote Rusty (although usually only in my head):  'Sayin' ain't doin'.'

Around that same time I also read Catcher in the Rye by J.D. Salinger, because a boy I had a crush on liked it. I was blown away by the righteous anger of the main character — his loathing of 'phonies'; I hated phonies, too. That book just seethes with rage. I'm afraid I do remember reaching a point where I thought, 'Enough with the self-pity, Holden. Pull it together,' but Catcher is so beautifully written that it still takes my breath away.

Great eh? So far we've had choices from Jeff Abbott, Sarra Manning and Team Atom (ahem, that's us, y'know). Keep an eye on us to find out which of our authors is next!

The Jungle Book, Rudyard Kipling

My dad read this to me.  This book, closely followed by The Hobbit, Treasure Island, and The Little Prince, was the standout that started my love for reading. Kipling’s best (that’s Kim, up there with Huck Finn and Moby Dick), taught me that the magic is in the words, not in the man.  To me there will forever be something about Kipling’s writing that reveals an epiphany of parental love. I re-read it as a teen and loved it even more.

 Siddhartha, Hermann Hesse

This changed my life as a young man.  A story about identity, about finding one’s own meaning to life, about doing what you feel you have to do in order to find yourself.  Reading it the first time helped me find the courage to become a young novelist.  I reread it every year; with The Catcher in the Rye and The Great Gatsby, this is an enduring favourite.  I learned that you can go into the unknown and take a chance, that you can work hard to chase your dreams, that there's no guarantees.  But you know what?  The joy of it is chasing that dream and never giving up, all in the hope that enlightenment will come.

 Enders Game, Orson Scott Card

I read this feverishly.  It taught me human lessons, beyond any non-fiction I’ve read, about war and violence.  As a writer it taught me that you shouldn’t compromise when creating a novel with young characters… and the power of a good ending.  Blood Meridian, Cormac McCarthy's best novel, his most brutal, had a similar affect on me for my thrillers.  Cormac gets that books are made of books.  Every line is honest, a slap in the face, a mirror for us all.  Every teenage boy should read Enders Game.

 The Catcher in the Rye,  J. D. Salinger 

Holden Caulfield at 16 is as wise a teenage character I've read – he pretty much did it all – yet he embodied the boy-ish naivety needed to make him appealing as a narrator. The setting and voice in the novel was an influence on my for all of my 20's. Like Yann Martel's "Pi" Patel (Life of Pi), Holden has left an indelible mark in my mind; it felt as though he was, for a period, a friend of mine… And believe me, I'd much rather have him as a friend than Bukowski’s Henry Chinaski (Ham on Rye).

The Diary of a Young Girl, Anne Frank

I read this in school and several times since.  It showed me that no matter how alone you feel, you are never really alone.  The ideas I interpreted as ‘speaking to friends in a time of crisis’, and ‘who’s to say that when people die every bit of them has to go’, sparked my storytelling bug.  ALONE: Chasers, my sixth novel, was a response to Diary and others mentioned here: a story of survival and a broader discussion about today’s lack of understanding and empathy.  I owe it all to that beautiful girl, Anne Frank

Those are some great recommends for the weekend!

If you'd like to get involved with helping to choose books for the 2012 World Book Night giveaway of ONE MILLION (!) books, just head to www.worldbooknight.org.

Sarra says:

My favourite YA novel has to be Girl by Blake Nelson. Set in Portland, it charts one turbulent, drama-filled year in the life of Andrea Marr as she suddenly gets cool, becomes queen of the downtown scene and falls in love with Todd Sparrow, one of those beautiful boys that should have a parental advisory warning tattooed on his forehead. This is the book that inspired me to start writing YA fiction and every time I read it, the story just roars off the page.

Doesn't it sound fantastic?!

If you would like to help select books for the 2012 World Book Night Giveaway (ONE MILLION FREE BOOKS! *gasp*) all you need to do is head to www.worldbooknight.org and choose your top ten books. Obviously, you can choose whatever you like, but we'll be your BFFs if you help us to get a YA book in the Nation's Top Ten!

Want to see what author Jeff Abbott chose? Click here! Or perhaps you'd like a look inside the minds of Team Atom?

Amy's picks:

To Kill a Mockingbird, by Harper Lee
This book marked me profoundly when I read it in high school for the first time. Scout is one of my favorite protagonists in literature. Place her in the book’s setting—Alabama during the Depression, in the midst of racial strife—and she is unforgettable. And her father, Atticus Finch, is such a hero. I just love everything about this book.

His Dark Materials, by Philip Pullman
Lyra Belacqua is yet another great girl protagonist: strong and curious and smart. And the world that Pullman has created in this trilogy sparks every creative synapse in my body. I love the daemon mythology, the parallel worlds, and holy cow, did he come up with a scary villain in Mrs. Coulter!

A Tree Grows in Brooklyn, by Betty Smith
Hmm, I see a pattern forming with the strong female protagonists in my chosen books! The scenes of Francie Nolan’s childhood in the slums of Brooklyn swing from heartbreaking to funny. I found myself cheering her on as she struggles to educate herself and her brother and lift them out of the poverty they endured with their parents. Her struggle against adversity is heroic, and the book a classic.

If you'd like to get involved with helping to choose books for the 2012 World Book Night giveaway of ONE MILLION books, just head to www.worldbooknight.org. Bonus points for every YA/kids book we can get on the list!!!