Posted in #Book, Author, Bewitching Book Tours, Cyberpunk, Dystopian, Fantasy, Post Apocalyptic, Tour, Writer

Beautiful Corpse by Eden Hudson – Release Day Blitz

09/06/17

Beautiful
Corpse

A
Jubal Van Zandt Novel

BookTwo

Eden
Hudson

Genre: Fantasy – Cyberpunk /
Dystopian / Post-Apocalyptic
Publisher: Shadow Alley Press Inc     
Date of Publication: June 9, 2017
ASIN: B072M1HVRG
Number of pages: 167
Word Count: 52,000
Cover Artist: Katherine Kalymniou

Book Description:

 

The best thief in the history of
the Revived Earth is back, and this time it’s personal.
A deadly plague is ravaging the
world’s population and threatening to kill the only person Jubal Van Zandt
cares about—himself. If he doesn’t find a cure soon, he’s dead.
The most promising lead is buried
in the ruins of an ancient sunken city stalked by savage predators, cunning
parasites, and the twisted souls of long-dead mages. It would take an army to
get Jubal inside … or just one of the most renowned knights in Guild history.
The one Jubal betrayed and left for dead eighteen months ago.
First Jubal has to convince her
not to kill him. Then he has to convince her to help save him.

EXCERPT
FROM CHAPTER ONE

I  motored the  Mangshan  between a  pair  of thorny locust trees  that served  as  the end  posts  for the  fence  marking the southern  boundary  of the  Xiao  family’s ancestral  holdings.
Carina  thought she  could  avoid me  by  ignoring my  messages  and staying holed  up  out
here  in  the middle  of  nowhere. Pretty ridiculous considering  how  well she  knew  me.
At  the end  of  the driveway,  the  trees pulled  back  to reveal a  traditional  wet-country
house—long  and  low, enclosed  by  a weathered wooden  porch  complete with  steel  sliding-panel
storm walls.  Today  the storm  walls  had been  thrown  open wide,  letting the  meager
sunlight  shine  onto the  house’s  creamy parchglass  and wood  exterior walls.
I  parked the ’Shan  at the  end  of an  ancient  stone walkway that  had  been buckled  by  the
unpredictable  water  table, and hooked  my  helmet and  ventilator  over the  handlebars.  It  had
taken  me almost  an  hour to  get  way  the  hell out  here  from Taern— and  that  was running  the’ Shan wide  open,  without any  traffic.
Why  Carina would  want  to live  so  far out  in  the  soggies  that she could  smell  the  fishshit, I
couldn’t  fathom.
Fire  threw open  blast  doors all  through  my body.  Heat,  the most perfect  heat,  swirled in  my  veins, warming  me  inside out. There  was  even a  taste,  sweet and  spicy  and a  little  ashy, like ember  dust  mixed with  wrackrath  smoke.
My  eyes  flew  open and  I  sucked in  a  damp lungful  of  country air, trying  to  catch
up  on  the  oxygen  I’d missed  while  I  was out.  I checked  my  wristpiece. The  attack  had only  lasted  a  few seconds.  Less  than a  minute,  definitely. The  PCM  fits were getting  more  frequent, but  they  weren’t getting  longer.  Yet. If Carina  had  been watching  me  out one  of  her  windows  or via  a security  feed, she  would  think I’d  just  been taking  in  the scenery.
I  headed up  the  walk, careful  not  to trip  over  the uneven stones,  and  stepped onto  the  porch. One  very  handsome devil  with sculpted  stubble, perfect  skin,  and dark,  piercing  eyes looked back  at  me from  the  reflection in  the  house’s parchglass  walls. I  admired his  striking  features as  I  knocked.
Not  that I  needed  to knock  with  the number  of  earlywarning systems  Carina  probably had  set  up around  her  house. But  I’m nothing  if not  polite.  Especially when  I  want something.
From  inside came  the  unmistakable sound  of  someone kicking something  heavy  across
the  room.
“You  better pray  to  God I  never  make it  to  this door,  Van Zandt,”  Carina
yelled  from  inside.
Paperinas  flitted around  my  stomach, and  a  crazy grin stretched  across  my face.  I  hadn’t
felt  much  of anything  but  the PCM attacks  in  such a  long  time that  the  excitement
was  making me  giddy.
“Are  you seriously  still  mad?”
I’m  not  always great  with time,  but  it  felt like  centuries  had passed  since  I’d last  seen Carina.  I took  a  guess. “Soam  was  like…a year  ago?”
There  was another  crash  inside. Then  the  house’s door roared  open  on its  track  and
I  was  staring down  the  business end of  Carina’s  well-worn knuckgun.  She  grabbed me  by  the
jacket collar  and  slammed me  against  one of  the  porch’s thick  wooden columns,  then jammed  the  knuckgun up  under  my
jaw.
“Eighteen  months,” she  said.  A muscle  in  her mahogany- colored  cheek  ticked. If  the  symmetrical muscle  under  her other cheek  hadn’t  been trapped  in  all that  shiny  pink scar  tissue,  it probably would’ve  tocked.
Our  time apart  had  not been  good  to Carina.  Since  the last time  I’d  seen her,  crow’s  feet
had  etched  themselves into  the dark  skin at  the  outside corners  of  her green  eyes.  She’d been athletic  and  sleek before,  a  very successful  feline  predator.
Now  shadows stood  out  below her  high  cheekbones. Where  her  long sleeves rode  up,  I
could  see  the veins  in  her wrists  and  thin straps of  muscle  in  her  forearms. The  past  eighteen
months  had whittled  her curves  and  soft places  down  to hard  angles  and razorblades.  She
looked  sharp.  Painfully so.
Apparently,  in spite  of  Soam’s  nationwide obesity  epidemic, good  eats were  not  a  part  of
their  prison  system.
“It  took you  eighteen  months to  break  out of  a  prison pit?” I  squinted  at her  in  disbelief. “In  Soam?”
“My  femur was  shattered,”  she said.  “Two  of my  vertebra  had to be  replaced.”
“Pretty  convenient excuses,”  I  said.
Carina  thumbed the  knuckgun’s  switch from  SAFETY  to BURST, effectively  changing  its purpose  from  SCARE JUBAL  to  TURN JUBAL’S SKULL  INTO  A BRAIN  GEYSER.
I  tried to  jerk  away  from the  deadly  weapon—I love  myself and  I don’t  fucking  like anything  that  has the  potential  to kill that  self—but  Carina’s grip  on  my collar  just  tightened.
She  had me  pinned to  the  column.
I  grunted. “You’re  awfully  strong for  a  stick figure.” “It  was  a miracle  I  wasn’t
killed  on  impact.”
“Exactly,  so what  are  you yelling  at  me for?”  I  said. “It’s not  like  you didn’t  know  what
you  were  getting into  ahead  of time, hiring  me.  You’re just  mad  that I  saw  through your manipulation  in  time to  save  my own  skin.”
Carina’s  dark eyebrows  twitched  together, and  her  head cocked a  fraction  of a  fraction. “Manipulation?”
“Don’t  play dumb  with  me, Bloodslinger,  it  looks terrible on  you.”  I tried  again  to squirm  away  from the  knuckgun.  “Will you put  that  piece away  already?  We both  know  you’re not  going to  use it  on  me. It’s  served  its  purpose—I’m very  intimidated and  a  little  bit aroused.”
Carina  made a  disgusted  sound in  her  throat and  shoved  away from me,  lowering  the
knuckgun  to  her side.  “What  are you  doing here,  Van Zandt?”
“What  kind of  stupid  question is  that?”  I straightened  my jacket.  “You know  why  I’m
here.  You’ve  opened every  message  I sent you  since  you got  back  to Emden.”
“You  hacked my  wristpiece?!”

About
the Author:

 
I am invincible. I am a mutant. I
have 3 hearts and was born with no eyes. I had eyes implanted later. I didn’t
have hands, either, just stumps. When my eyes were implanted they asked if I would
like hands as well and I said, “Yes, I’ll take those,” and pointed
with my stump. But sometimes I’m a hellbender peeking out from under a rock.
When it rains, I live in a music box.
 
But I’m also a tattoo-addict,
coffee-junkie, drummer, and aspiring skateboarder. Jesus actually is my
homeboy.
 
 

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Author:

Tracey A Wood is a new exciting author of Paranormal suspense, Romance and Urban Fantasy novels with a captivating twist

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