The
Zodiac Collector
Laura
Diamond
Genre: Young
Adult Fantasy
Publisher:
Spencer Hill Press
Date of
Publication: September 23, 2014
Number of pages:
314
Word Count:
70,000
Cover Artist:
Lisa Amowitz
Book Description:
For almost-16
year-old Anne Devans, the annual Renaissance Faire means three things--her dad
spending weeks in the smithy, her bipolar mom doing some manic costume making,
and another ruined birthday for her and her twin sister, Mary.
This year, Anne
wants things to be different, and she's going to do things her way. On the eve
of the Faire, Anne, along with a reluctant Mary, conjures up a spell that will
make their 16th birthday party a whirlwind event. Little do they know that it's
a literal request.
After the mini
tornado in their room subsides, the girls realize they've invoked the power of
the Gemini Twins, Castor and Pollux. That's the good news. The bad news is they
also caught the attention of a sorceress named Zeena who has been collecting
children born under each Zodiac Sign to enhance her power. Once she captures
Anne and Mary, Gemini twins, the entire Zodiac, and the world, will be hers.
Anne leads the
fight against Zeena, but her one-sided decisions could throw them into a world
so far from home, even the Renaissance Faire would seem like a brilliant
vacation. Between managing their new Zodiac powers, dodging their manic mother
and trying to stop Zeena, they'll get a 16th birthday they'll never forget.
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Excerpt from The Zodiac Collector
The
Renaissance Faire wrecks my birthday every year. A month before the actors and
merchants arrive to transform Hopewell Falls Park into a sixteenth-century
towne—yes, with an “e”—Mom stops taking her lithium. Within forty-eight hours
she’s higher than a prom queen accepting her crown. As the best seamstress east
of the Appalachian Trail, she thinks it’s her duty to stay awake for days,
surviving on double espressos and cigarettes, to make the royal court’s
costumes. She says mania makes her more productive, but all it does is turn her
into a raging beast that puts Sauron, the Basilisk, and the Kraken all to
shame.
Her
internet business, Devans’s Dazzling Dresses, caters to the Renaissance crowd
and occupies her all year long, but our local faire gives her the most sales.
“These
orders came in months ago. Why wait until the last minute to finish them?” I
hover near the doorway to the living room—a.k.a. Mom’s studio—and try not to
choke on the stagnant air. A wheeze plays at my lungs. I finger the inhaler
that I always carry in case I have to take a puff.
The
room has the best natural lighting in the whole house. A large bay window,
stretching from floor to ceiling, is the envy of every do-it-yourself crafter
on the block. I dream about curling up on the seat cushion with a book and a
cup of hot chocolate, but Mom never lets anybody in there. No. Matter. What.
I’d
need to wear a gas mask, anyway, to prevent an asthma attack.
Heavy-metal
music throttles my eardrums. I resist the urge to clap my palms over my ears.
Mom says she can draw energy from the sound waves. She thinks the bands create
their music specifically for her. No amount of lithium makes that go away.
“What
else am I supposed to do? This is how I create.” Her blue eyes spark with fury
as she takes a drag on her cigarette. Two inches of ash hang on the end. It’s
beyond me how it doesn’t fall off and burn the fabric she’s working on. At
least the dry cleaner can erase the smoky stench from her masterpiece after
it’s done. She throws a pincushion at me and returns to her ironing. “Now get
out of here. Don’t you have finals to study for or something?”
“But
Mary’s and my birthday is coming up and I wanted to talk to you—” My voice
squeaks and tears burn at my eyes.
Her
head snaps up, sending wild-colored curls swaying with agitation. “I’m.
Working.”
I
can’t even get two sentences out and she’s in attack mode. My stomach twists on
itself as instinct claws at my chest, begging for clean air. Ask quickly and
get out. That’s the plan. I lick my dry lips. “We’re turning sixteen. It’s
important.”
She
plucks the cigarette from her mouth and pulverizes it in a nearby ashtray. Her
nicotine-stained fingers shake, fumbling to light another one. It takes two
flicks for the lighter to ignite. Her cheeks hollow out as she sucks in along
drag. She holds it in for a few seconds, eyes closed in fleeting bliss, and
blows it out. The lines of her face—webbing crows’ feet, jagged wrinkles across
her forehead, arcs from her nose to the corners of her lips—deepen. Pale gray
fog surrounds her like she’s a smoldering dragon working up to the big
explosion of fire.
“Everything’s
about you and your sister, isn’t it? Well, did it ever occur to you that the
work I do helps pay the bills around here? I don’t see you bringing in a
paycheck.”
“Whatever.”
Like a defenseless knight who’s lost his courage, I retreat. I storm upstairs,
my ever-ready puffer in one hand while I wave away the haze of smoke with the
other. The whole house smells like stale nicotine and my asthma is flaring like
Jenny Johnson’s face that time she farted in gym class. I slam the door behind
me.
“You
interrupted Mom, didn’t you?” My ever-perceptive twin, Mary, guesses right. She
removes her earbuds and sets aside her biology textbook.
“No.”
I take a hit from my inhaler and flop on my paisley bedspread. Doesn’t matter
that I stare at the ceiling. Her accusation crashes over me like a tsunami. I
roll on my side to face her. “Yes.”
She
runs her hands through her curly espresso-colored hair and glares at me with
her jade eyes. “Why?”
“Why
not? We’ve never had a real, disaster-free birthday party because of the
Renaissance Faire. Isn’t it about time?” I refuse to surrender to her
disapproval. She’d never challenge Mom. At least I try. My Papillon dog,
Castor, leaps on the bed. The fringe of his sable ears flutter like streamers
as he licks my cheeks.
Mary
averts her gaze and picks up his brother, Pollux. It was Mom’s idea to name
them after the Gemini twins. She called it “kitschy.” Pfft. Amazing she didn’t
name us after them.
“Well?”
I sit up. Castor’s and Pollux’s dark eyes stare at me with sympathy. The cozy
bedroom is their safe haven as much as it is ours.
“The
more you bother her, the less likely it is we’ll get a party. I bet she won’t
bake a cake this year, either.” She presses her chin against Pollux’s head.
“So
it’s my fault we won’t get a party?”
She
winces. “I didn’t say that.”
Regret
presses on my shoulders and slides down my spine to nestle in my gut like a
snake. It coils in my stomach, tail rattling with agitation. “I don’t mean to
make things worse.”
“I
know,” she barely whispers.
I
take a deep breath and imagine the regret snake spontaneously combusting and
evaporating into nothingness. Better than having it strike and lodge its fangs
into my liver. “What kind of cake would you want?”
“It
would be cool to have a tiered one, with piping and flowers. Maybe even edible
pearl candies or something.”
The
corner of her mouth hitches up.
Mary
likes pretty things. I prefer edgy. “What about one with a knight beheading a
dragon on top? Blood-red icing can trail down the sides and pool around the
base.”
She scrunches
her nose and scratches behind Pollux’s ear. “Gross. Maybe we can get a Papillon
cake. It’d be so cute.”
It’s
not a bad idea.
Her
half-smile fades. “Doesn’t matter. Mom won’t go for any of it.”
“It’s
so unfair.” Amped on the pain of injustice, I launch myself to my feet and pace
our bedroom, from our window overlooking the wooded park across the street, to
the desk we share on the other side. The braided rug between our twin beds
massages my bare feet.
“Yeah,
and what are you going to do about it? Nothing, that’s what.” Mary cradles
Pollux in her arms and carries him to his doggie bed. After gently lowering him
to the round cushion, she stares at her closet, gaze scanning every inch, and
taps her chin. Sucking on her bottom lip, she falls into an OCD trance, and
I’ve lost any chance at wrangling her back into the conversation about Mom.
About the Author
Laura Diamond is
a board certified psychiatrist and author of all things young adult paranormal,
dystopian, and horror. She’s a lucid dreamer, meaning she can direct her dreams
while they’re happening. When she’s awake, she pens stories from her dreams and
shares them with her readers.
Laura has many
published titles including the Pride Series (New Pride, Shifting Pride, soon to
be re-released, and Tsavo Pride), the Endure Series (Endure and Evoke, soon to
be re-released), The Zodiac Collector, a novella Sunset Moon in the Lore
anthology, and several shorts stories. When she’s not writing, she is working
at the hospital, blogging at Author Laura Diamond–Lucid Dreamer, and renovating
her 225+ year old fixer-upper mansion.
Author Links:
***GIVEAWAY***
Prize pack 1:
Autographed set of Shifting Pride, Endure, & Lore and swag bookmarks.
Prize Pack 2:
Autographed copy of Lore (the anthology) and swag bookmarks.
Prize Pack 3
&4: Swag postcards of books, a zodiac ring, & a zodiac bracelet
representing main characters from The Zodiac Collector (Libra & Gemini).
Bonus: Laura is
giving an ecopy of the short story, Tsavo Pride, to everyone who purchases The
Zodiac Collector--simply email her proof of purchase and she’ll send the short.
Laura’s email: authorlauradiamond@gmail.com
Open to US only.
Blog Tour Organised by:
These books look really good and right up my ally. Thanks for the giveaway.
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