My New Epic Fantasy Series “The Iron Butterfly
” will be released in the next two weeks
! YAY! The first book in the series is finalized, edited and loaded ready to be released to the digital world. Now to finalize the cover of the series and we will be rockin’ and rollin’.
I did snag a very talented graphic designer to do the covers for the Iron Butterfly (ahem.. Steve Hahn) and I should be getting a test cover coming this weekend. So once they have been finalized and approved, the first book. “The Iron Butterfly” will be released.
But for your enjoyment and to hold you over until it’s official epub date, I will release a small sample of chapter 1for you.
THE IRON BUTTERFLY (Teaser) Chapter 1
When I first awoke in the darkness that was my prison cell, I was brave, fearless and I still had enough fight in me to question the rules. But after my third beating by Scar Lip, I learned to hold my tongue while in his presence. After my first taste of torture on the machine, I learned obedience. Down in this hell, silence was more than golden; it was the difference between life and death. And where we were, there was a whole lot of death.
The sound of a distant door slamming snapped my mind back to the present. Footsteps slowed and our cell door opened with an ominous creak. The light from the hall fell across my bruised face making my eyes flinch in pain. A small whimper and the rustle of straw drew my attention to the other forgotten occupant of my cell, a small girl named Cammie. She pathetically tried to scoot away and put as much distance between her and the man about to enter our cell.
My mouth formed the word, NO, as an ugly bulldog of a man ducked under the too short door frame. I knew without looking it was Scar Lip. He had a crooked nose, dark unwashed hair and cruel black eyes that hid beneath a furrowed brow. He smiled in delight at Cammie’s attempt to evade him, which made the scar that transected his top lip stand out in paleness.
The smell that accompanied him was a mixture of sweat and rot, which permeated from the layers of dried and crusted blood that coated his blacksmith’s apron. He had come to take one of us to Raven.
Drips of sweat beaded across my forehead as the footsteps drew closer. It was too soon, I wasn’t strong enough for another session on the machine. I groaned when I saw the smear of blood coating the back of my hand, leftover from last night’s experiment. I knew that if he chose me again, I wouldn’t survive. I tried to raise my head from the cold stone floor as he came closer to stand over my prone form. But a sudden wave of fear made me vomit what little was left in my stomach.
Scar Lip paused over my dry heaving body and backed away in disgust. When the convulsions stopped, I heard him move towards Cammie, and the sounds of scuffling as she crawled farther into the darkness of the cell hoping its shadows would hide her from his gaze. It was no use; all she did was back herself into a corner.
Cammie whimpered, “Please!…don’t,” and was smacked in the face by Scar Lip.
“No talking! You know the rules,” he sneered.
Her lipped quivered and a small amount of blood appeared at the side of her mouth. She tried to wipe at it with the back of her hand, but only smeared it across her chin. She bit her bottom lip between her teeth to keep any more sound from coming forth.
“That’s better,” he growled. “The Raven has a new experiment to try and needs another volunteer.” Scar Lip grabbed Cammie by the arms and dragged her out into the hall; her feet twisting and fighting behind her, trying to slow his efforts. She hadn’t lost her fight, but if she survived the week in this pit, she would.
I raised my hand towards them as if by that one action alone I could protect her and stop what was about to happen. The large cell door shut with a thud, and I waited to hear if the lock turned. It did. I counted the steps as Scar lip dragged Cammie up the stairs through another door; mentally tracing the intricate path they would take until they came to a huge iron door that once opened, would let out a smell of iron, sulfur and death. I knew from experience that a table waited behind that door with cold iron shackles and as well as… I shivered at the mental picture that formed of the nameless machine they used to experiment on us.
When the sound of the door at the top of the stairs closed, the pain in my chest exploded because I was holding my breath. I cried in relief that I wasn’t going to be tortured and experimented on again, that I survived one more day. I dropped my head to the floor and let the grief pour out of my body in loud aching sobs, as I realized in shame that I was happy he chose Cammie.