A lot is happening in the world of the Starblood series. I have just received the paperbook wrap from Vamptasy for book three. Book four - Ribbons - is with my editor and will be published on Friday 13th September 2019.
The graphic novel for Black Sun is well underway and I have seen extraordinary sketches from Anna Prashkovich that are building a shocking and immersive picture of what is to come. As with Psychonaut, we will be offering a Kickstarter drive for the next graphic novel with exclusive offers and prizes, but that won't happen until 2020.
Finally, I am about to start work on the fifth, and possibly last, book in the series - Pariah - and I am filled to the brim with ideas for it. The next installment shall follow the journeys of Freya, Edensun and Garlow (via the point of view of his wife). We may even find out what happened to Star in this one.
The Starblood series, the story so far - Book 1 - Starblood - http://smarturl.it/Starblood Book 2 - Psychonaut - http://smarturl.it/PsychonautVoiez Book 3 - Black Sun - http://smarturl.it/BlackSun Signed paperbacks of the first three novels also available at my webstore.
The rum bar seems a cosy setting to wait out the apocalypse. Other than the ruby smears down the ersatz leaded windows and the occasional battered body, stumbling against them from the pavement outside before lurching away again, Marian can almost pretend it is an ordinary day. Of course ordinary is a relative term. Marian’s ordinary days can be compared to many people’s worst nightmares. It amazes her that she’s here at all. Only her connection to higher forces keeps her functioning. After everything that’s happened she still has responsibilities she cannot avoid.
Around her are people she knows and trusts. They were called to this safe haven, like she was, by their leader, the Oracle, and her granddaughter Jessica. A comfortable room with low lighting and warm drinks where they will face whatever comes, together.
Marian downs the dregs of her fourth rum and Frangelico cocktail in a half-hearted attempt to drown her self-pity. Bill stands up to fetch another, but she lunges gracelessly and grabs his sleeve, pulling him back. Her head spins and her stomach churns. Her heart is a boulder that weighs her down.
It would be too easy to drink herself into oblivion, but she has a responsibility to those who believe in her, who know she is more than a working mother who lost her son and uses sick notes to avoid the office while in mourning. She has shut herself away from these friends for months, but they do not complain. They know her suffering, too many have shared in it, and they understand what it costs her to answer Jessica’s summons. Part of her is relieved, glad she came to face them all. She belongs with these people and the only way she will heal is with the soothing balm of their love.
If she drinks much more she fears she will empty her gut over the table. If it meant Bill would find her less attractive it might be worthwhile. However, holding back her long black hair as she throws up beside him would not dull his desperate yearning to kiss her lips. If she believed for one moment that it might she would stop clinging to the Salvations in her gut and spill them all. Deep down, in the pit of her treacherous stomach, she knows it will take more than a mountain of vomit to push him away.
Marian shakes her head and the room lurches. Against the far wall, under paintings of debauched saints, half hidden by shadows that muted amber lamps cannot dispel, she sees two oracles and two Jessicas. None of their shifting faces carry the slightest accusation, but Marian still feels personally responsible for the carnage unfolding around the city and beyond.
The Oracle says this is not the end. Marian finds that hard to believe in spite of years of devout faith. Her only son is dead and her grandson is out there somewhere, holding open the gates of hell.
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