I am really excited about whatβs coming up next for me! After so many years
writing fantasy, I needed a bit of a departure, and Iβve been really keen on the
Dystopian scene, so thatβs where I decided to depart to. My next series is a
YA/NA Dystopian trilogy titled
, and book one,
BREEDER, comes out later this year. It was a bit of a challenge for me to see if
I could write Dystopian at all, especially as Iβve written it in an entirely
different voice and perspective than
, but if my
editors and beta readers are any judges at all, I think I have transitioned
successfully.
will be told in three installments, and the first
book focuses largely on an 18-year-old girl named Pria who is, at the start of
the story, a part of the breeding program on which her society rests. She is
ignorant of the dark underbelly of her world, however, and it takes a rogue
Enforcer named Pax to rescue her from the darkness she didnβt even know existed.
BREEDER follows Pax and Pria as they seek the truth in a world gone mad, and it
plumbs the depths of Priaβs strength in the face of great adversity.
I careen around the corner of the first branching, Paxβs words
echoing in my brain. Why would they kill me? They wouldnβt kill me. Iβm a
Breeder!
Pax is running behind me, his slapping footsteps urging me forward. I canβt
think like this. I have to stop.
I plant my feet and skid to a halt. Pax lets out an exhalation of surprise as he
slams into me. I stumble forward, but years of dance and exercise pay off as I
nimbly stay on my feet and swing around to face him. βTell me whatβs going on,β
I say. βWhy did you say they were going to kill me?β
βBecause they were. Iβve been tailing them all day, and I heard their orders
come through clear as day. βTerminate B-Seventeen. Sheβs asking too many
questions.β I followed them when they came back with you. I just saved your life.β
I ask too many questions? I know curiosity is frowned upon, but would they
really kill me for it? This doesn't make sense. βWho gave the order?β I ask in a
whisper, narrowing my eyes.
βWho do you think?β
Mother. I close my eyes. βNo. She wouldnβt. I donβt believe you.β
βShe did.β
I think of the conversation I just had with her. Of her cool assessment of the
death of the girl. Of her assurances of our place in the animal kingdom. But
Mother loves me! Doesnβt she? I clench my jaw and hold back tears, giving Pax a
blazing look. Why must he plant these doubts?
βIf she wants me dead,β I say, βwhy hasnβt she given the order before now?β
βBecause they hoped they could get you under control. Breeders are valuable
commodities, after allβdifficult to replace. But now . . .β He shakes his head,
and I could almost scream with the frustration of not being able to read his
expression.
βNow?β
βNow you know what they are capable of.β He lowers his head and his voice. βYour
response was exactly what they were looking for, exactly what they canβt allow.β
βWhat . . . with the girl?β I swallow hard, trying to push the images away. I
close my eyes. βThey didnβt have anything to do with that. As Mother said, it
was already too late.β
Pax steps closer, his visor hovering just in front of my face. βBut would she
have done anything about it, even if she could have?β he whispers.
I study his visor, my stomach sinking because I know the answer. βNo,β I say.
He steps back and holds out his hand to me. βThen why are you still here? You
know in your heart itβs wrong, and thatβs what separates you from the others.β
βBut I donβt get it. This is a place of life.β
βIt is a place of death, and youβll never know the truth if you donβt come with
me now.β
I ball my fists and look away, becoming slowly aware of a muffled pounding that
can be coming only from the Protectors locked in the meditation chamber down the
hall.
Pax gives an exasperated sigh and asks, βDo you need proof?β He reaches toward
my head and I flinch, thinking heβs going to strike me, but instead he grabs a
tablet from a slot beside the door Iβm leaning against. He keys it on and taps
in something that makes it come to life. I donβt have time to wonder how he
knows the access codes before he turns the screen toward me and points to a line
of glowing green script. βThere. Read it for yourself.β
I look at it for only a moment. βI canβt read,β I say.
For the first time, Pax falters. He tilts his head in a jerky motion, clearly
surprised, and says, βWhat?β
The pounding at the end of the hall grows louder, and I can now hear muffled
voices. Pax looks over his shoulder. βFine, here . . .β He taps rapidly, and
then says, βComputer, play back last transmission, volume low.β
As clear as day, Motherβs automated voice comes through the tablet. βTerminate
B-Seventeen. Sheβs asking too many questions.β
My breath leaves me in a rush, and I slump against the door at my back. βIt . .
. canβt . . .β I press my hands to my mouth and take deep, bracing breaths. I
will not cry. I will not cry.
Pax replaces the tablet in its holder and says in a low voice, βDo you believe
me now?β
I nod. How could I not? βBut I donβt want to leave Sanctuary,β I whisper, my
voice hitching. βItβs my home.β
βYou must leave,β he says.
I shake my head, terror like Iβve never known coursing through me, seizing me
and making me clench my chattering teeth.
Paxβs tone drops another notch as he asks, βDonβt you want to be free? Let me
save you. Please, Pria.β
My eyes fly wide and I look at him, my heart slamming in my chest. βHow do you
know that name? Did I tell it to you?β
βI know a lot more than that, but youβll never know how if you donβt come with
me.β He holds out his hand again. βThe Program got one thing rightβyou are very
special. Too special to die. Please.β
Slowly, as though my arm weighs fifty pounds, I reach for his outstretched hand.
When our fingers touch, he envelops my hand and squeezes it. This touch, this
single touch, even though heβs wearing a glove and I cannot feel his skin, is
treason to the Unified World Order because I did it on purpose. I am a Breeder,
physically set apart for the propagation of a more perfect human race. Touching
a man is forbidden to me by law. But until now, Iβd never had the opportunity.
Holding his hand marks the end of my life, but somehow, it feels like the
beginning.