Of
Cinder and Bone
By
Kyoko M
Genre:
SciFi Thriller, Fantasy
After
centuries of being the most dangerous predators on the planet,
dragons were hunted to extinction. That is, until Dr. Rhett “Jack”
Jackson and Dr. Kamala Anjali cracked the code to bring them back.
Through their research at MIT, they resurrected the first dragon
anyone has seen alive since the 15th century. There’s just one
problem.
Someone
stole it.
Caught
between two ruthless yakuza clans who want to clone the dragon, Jack
and Kamala brave the dangerous streets of Tokyo to steal their dragon
back in a race against time before the world is taken over by
mutated, bloodthirsty monsters that will raze it to ashes.
Of
Cinder and Bone is an all-new sci-fi thriller from the author of the
Amazon bestselling Black Parade novels. Don’t miss out on this
explosive first-in-series!
They sent a knight to save you once
And found you curled up with the dragon
Crown askew, skirts singed
They tried marrying you,
Couldn’t hack it, went home,
You liked the acoustics much better
In empty castles.
(the dragon was teaching you to roar.)
Six wars they waged against you—
Disgruntled princes with their
Silent knights.
Blood in the fields, in the water,
In the snow, on their crowns,
When you added them
To your collections.
Rarely smiled, laughed only with the dragon,
Looked so often over your shoulder
You almost forgot to watch ahead.
Here’s the secret you took to your grave;
You were holding whole kingdoms
But your palms were made of sand.
-Elisabeth Hewer, “Obituary for the princess who
forgot to be a fairytale”
CHAPTER ONE
ASK DNA
“I swear to Vishnu, if this doesn’t work, I’m
going to stab you in the throat with a Pipette.”
To the average person, this threat would have
been quite worrisome, but not to Rhett “Jack” Jackson, Ph.D. He merely removed
his sinhalite-hued eyes from the microscope and arched an eyebrow at his
companion. “Um. Please don’t?”
Dr. Kamala Anjali rolled her own
smoky-quartz eyes. “No promises. How’s it look?”
Jack sighed and massaged his sinuses. “Not any
better than yesterday. Or the day before. Or the month before.”
“Your optimism is what I like best about you,”
she said, nudging him aside to have her own look at the incubator. She examined
it for a moment or two before echoing his sigh. The sperm and genetically
modified egg might as well have been middle school kids at their first dance.
Neither of them would even come near each other, let alone combine.
“Alright, I’m calling it. What time is it?”
Jack checked his watch. “Ten ‘til eleven.”
“Damn. Come on, let’s pack it up for the
night.” She removed the sample and tucked it carefully into the cooler beside
it, flipping off the light. She tapped her laptop and stared into the built-in
camera, not bothering to disguise the scowl on her face. “Trial Number
sixty-one proved negative results. Will reconvene for Trial Number sixty-two at
eight am tomorrow.” She closed the program and then stuck the samples on a
shelf in the nearby walk-in freezer.
Jack scooped together their mountain of
paperwork and closed her laptop before slipping both into her brown leather
briefcase. The two moved smoothly in their nightly ritual of replacing all the
lab equipment to be ready for the next students.
He went over to the whiteboard at the far wall
and started erasing the equations they’d written on it. There were enough that
it looked like a wall of hieroglyphics in ancient Egypt, and for all intents
and purposes, it might as well have been. It told stories of seemingly
impossible things—things that couldn’t be explained except through faith.
Jack’s brush-strokes with the eraser were hard
and quick. Kamala observed them out of her peripheral as she pushed their
stools in towards the table. When the board was clean, he tossed it down next
to the markers and ran a hand through his dark hair, hesitating before joining
her again.
“So…I’m going to a party,” Kamala said
brightly, grinning up at him as he helped her out of her lab coat. “You should come.”
Again, his right eyebrow rose. “Uh. You’ve met
me, right? Two left feet. Made of clay. Attached to an absurdly uncoordinated
frame.”
To emphasize this, he brandished both large
hands at himself, drawing her attention to his six-foot-two gangly body. He
looked right at home in a laboratory, with his brunette hair sticking up in
random directions, crisp white button-down shirt, and charcoal grey slacks over
black wing-tip Cole Haans.
Kamala shook her head, her short dark hair
framing gracefully round cheekbones and delicate features. The nose-stud helped
break up her doll-like qualities, though her five-foot-four height did not. “No
one said you had to dance. Drink. Flirt with girls. You know, things college
guys do?”
Jack’s cheeks colored a bit. “That’s not
really my deal. Besides, we’ve got an early start tomorrow—”
“We always have an
early start, Jack,” she said impatiently. “Doesn’t mean we can’t have fun
between now and if we ever accomplish our ridiculously ambitious project.”
He scratched the back of his neck and avoided
her eyes. “Still, though. Maybe tomorrow will be the big breakthrough. Can’t
have a breakthrough if you’re hungover.”
“Fine.” She turned on her heel, marched to the
door, and opened it for him, her smile fierce. “We’ll see what Faye has to say
about it.”
He groaned as he walked out, his feet dragging
across the tiles.
“Great.”
The second Kamala opened the door to her
two-bedroom apartment—a single-level smushed in a row a mere three miles from
the Massachusetts Institute of Technology’s main campus—Slayer poured out into
the night to assault the ears of anyone nearby. Jack winced as he toed off his
shoes and left them next to the welcome mat, shutting the door behind them. He
caught the sharp scent of butter in the air as well as some form of
greenery—probably sautéed kale, since Kamala was vegetarian—and walked in
further to investigate.
A tall, leggy blonde stood in the kitchen, her
hips swaying back and forth to the frantic drumbeats of “Angel of Death.” Her
shoulder-length hair was tied high and bounced against the nape of her neck.
Her blue-grey eyes stayed focused on the pan until the pair walked into her
line of sight.
“Kam-Kam!” she grinned. “Back just in time!
I’m almost done and then we can bounce to the party.”
She then glanced at Jack and her face sobered
significantly. Jack’s wincing deepened. “What’s the Stiff doing here?”
Jack sighed. “I’m here at her request, Faye.
Won’t be long, I swear.”
Kamala swept past her roommate and gave her a
swat on the backside as she went. Jack tried not to notice, but it was
difficult considering Faye only had on a pair of green girls’ boxer shorts and
a black tank top. “Stop it, saheli. He just walked in
the door. At least let me get him a drink before you verbally assault him.”
She tossed Jack a Coke from the pantry and
popped open a can for herself, ignoring Faye’s scowl in her general direction.
She then reached over the counter and turned the radio down to a dull roar.
“Besides, you’re going to convince him to come to the party with us.”
“Ha!” the blonde exclaimed, switching off the
stove and spooning the kale onto a plate. “Him? At a party? Like they’d even
let him in.”
“Not the point. You are going to explain the
scientific benefits and advantages of partying to our guest and that’s final.”
Kamala garnished the command with a glare and then grabbed the plate from her.
She plopped down on the stool in front of the breakfast nook and started
eating, while staring pointedly at the pair.
Faye drummed her long fingers on the
countertop and then let her gaze drag over Jack, who shuffled from foot to foot
and idly sipped his soda. “We can’t take him looking like that.”
Kamala waved the comment aside. “We’ll make
him change.”
Jack opened his mouth to protest, but Kamala’s
glare silenced it. He pinched the bridge of his nose instead. Faye continued to
examine him.
“Alright, Stilts…” Faye opened the fridge and withdrew
a Granny Smith apple, biting down before continuing. “So who are you?”
He stared at her. “Beggin’ your pardon?”
She brandished a hand at him. “Who. Are. You?
I mean, you’ve been Kam’s partner for a whole year, and the only things I know
about you are you’re tall, awkward, you like science, and you’ve got an ass
that won’t quit.”
He flushed pink. “That’s…I’m not seeing how
this has anything to do with the party.”
“It has everything to do with the party. It’s
not about the drinks or the girls or the music. It’s supposed to force you to
open up and be social. It’s about having fun. I assume you’ve read about fun
before, right?”
Jack exhaled through his nose and counted to
five before responding. “Yeah, and I’ve also read about peer pressure.”
Faye rolled her eyes. “Work with me here,
Stilts. You’re a scientist. You like to learn. You like new experiences. Is one
night of partying going to wreck your whole life?”
“…well, no, but—”
“Butts are for Sir-Mix-a-Lot. Consider this
part of your research. You are going to study two insanely beautiful women
going to a party to decompress and have a good time. And, maybe, if you’re
lucky, you’ll crawl out of that shell and have a good time too.”
Jack glanced between the two of them, only to
be met with matching walls of determination. He thought of several
counterarguments, but got the sense that it’d be as effective as throwing a
temper tantrum. “Alright, fine.”
He paused for an additional second and pointed
a finger at her. “But I get to pick my own clothes, dammit!”
Faye smiled and patted his cheek. “No, you
don’t.”
“…I don’t like you very much.”
“I look ridiculous.”
“You are ridiculous.”
“I swear, if you two don’t stop sniping at
each other, I’m going to slam this car into a pole and kill us all.”
Silence. “Cry-baby.”
“Harpy.”
Kamala groaned and parked the car, tossing
glares into the passenger’s side and backseat consecutively. “Behave.”
Faye batted her eyelashes. “I like it when you
get mad. Your accent gets all thick and adorable.”
“Get out of the car before I hurt you.”
The trio exited Kamala’s powder-blue
Volkswagen Beetle and walked two blocks down to the club. For once, the
northeast didn’t have its icy claws set into the Cambridge area. It was a warm
summer night, and the town had lit up with life as a result. Teenagers
clustered around the local movie theaters to giggle and chat and flirt. Couples
sat outside the diners and cafes, sipping their cocktails and discussing their
future plans. Older folks held hands and walked along the storefronts to
window-shop for their grandkids.
As they got closer, Faye’s hips automatically
started swaying, which did interesting things to the fluttery bottom of her
blood-orange mini-skirt. The white halter-top shirt lifted up in the back as she
raised her arms to pump both fists. In Jack’s opinion, Faye could be the poster
child for a head cheerleader or prom queen: full pink lips, flawless skin,
natural blonde hair that fell in a perfect fluffy shower to her shoulders, legs
that would have made Goldie Hawn jealous, and curves that shamed the English
countryside. The even funnier part was that Faye was far more likely to beat up
a cheerleader than actually be one.
“Oh, they’re playing my song,” she said with a
happy sigh. “I can already tell this is going to be a great night.”
“Yep. Great,” Jack muttered under his breath,
staring at his unfamiliar red Chucks as he walked. His mother had bought them
for him last Christmas, and was blissfully unaware he’d hidden them in the back
of his closet. Kamala and Faye had unearthed them, as well as a leather jacket,
some blue jeans, and a scarlet t-shirt with the Flash insignia on the chest.
He’d complained that he looked like a sixteen-year-old going to comic con, to
which both women said, “Get over it.”
Kamala bumped his arm with her elbow. He
glanced over, expecting a glare, but she smiled instead, and the overhead lamp
made her lovely brown lips gleam. “Don’t worry.”
She slipped her fingers between his, leaning
in as if sharing a secret. “I’ll never let go, Jack.”
He threw his head back and howled in
annoyance. “Do you know how many times I’ve heard that
before?”
Kamala cackled. “It was worth it for the look
on your face.”
But she did squeeze his hand before letting go
and he had to admit he didn’t mind. Kamala and Faye were like night and day.
Faye loved loud-colored clothing that showed off what a bombshell she was,
while Kamala preferred a more subtle style. She had thick, glossy hair cut in a
layered bob just below her chin, entrancing lips, long lashes, and a voice that
reminded him of warm honey in a cup of hot lemon tea. She’d chosen a burgundy
dress with silver jewelry and platform heels so she could see through the crowd
easier. The ensemble was just as devastating as Faye’s bright colors.
A couple of burly men in black stood outside
the club checking IDs. Jack flipped his wallet open, but the guy waved him
through with a smirk, somehow sensing from his discomfort that he was well over
twenty-one. Then he followed Faye up the steps into the club and was instantly
swallowed in dub-step.
The stairwell led to a loft-style club,
currently packed to the rafters with partygoers. Pink, purple, and blue lights
slashed through the darkness and shocked Jack’s pupils momentarily. He felt
Kamala grip his hand again and tug him towards the bar against the far wall,
where Faye had led the way. She sidled up to one corner and gave the bartender
a Cheshire cat grin, raising her voice over the pounding music to order three
beers: one Samuel Adams and two Coronas.
She scooped the drinks up and beckoned her
friends to one of the tables against the wall, overlooking downtown and all the
mischief that had kicked up on a Friday night. Jack found himself relieved that
the stools were high, meaning he wouldn’t have to hunch over the table to be
level with the girls.
Faye uncapped the beers and passed them out.
“So what are we drinking to? World peace? Cure for cancer? Zombie apocalypse?”
Kamala raised her bottle. “Here’s to the
semester. We’ve got less than a month to turn in some results or we lose the
grant.”
Jack grimaced, holding his out as well. “I’ll
drink to that.”
Faye shook her head. “No way. We’re not going
to start down that road. I have no doubt in my mind that you two eggheads will
find a match. It’s going to happen. May God strike me down if I—”
She started coughing violently. Kamala rolled
her eyes. Even Jack cracked a smile. “Excuse me. What was I saying?”
Kamala shook her head. “She’s right. Forget
about the project. Let’s just enjoy the night for once. Brahma-knows how many
more of them we’ll get.”
They clinked the bottles together and drank
deeply. Faye’s eyes darted around the room with laser precision and her smile
widened. “I’ve spotted my quarry. Kam, are you with me or do you want to
entertain the Stiff for a while?”
“I’ll catch up, troublemaker.”
Faye tossed her golden hair, took one last
pull that emptied the bottle, and stalked off towards some unsuspecting
gentleman for a dance. Jack watched, resting his head on one hand.
“I still can’t believe she’s an electrical
engineering expert. A section of my brain implodes every time I think about
it.”
Kamala chuckled. “Mysteries of the universe.
Speaking of which…”
She leaned in a bit. “Why don’t you like to go
out, Jack? Still pretending to be a good little Christian boy?”
“Ha!” he said after another mouthful of beer.
“No, I, uh, just don’t seem to mingle well. Not much of a
conversation-starter.”
“Nonsense. You get along with me just fine.”
He ran his fingers down the sweating glass
bottle. “You’re the exception, trust me. It’s not like I don’t know how. Just
don’t see much reason to, not with what I want out of life.”
She studied him for a moment. “You want to
make the world a better place. That much I know. But you’re still a part of
that world, Jack. You can’t look through a microscope your whole life. You’ll
miss what’s really there.”
His mouth suddenly felt alarmingly dry.
He swallowed a couple times. “Yeah, I guess so. But maybe—”
“Hey there, gorgeous!” A sandy-haired guy
appeared with a broad grin and blue eyes focused intently on Kamala. “Care to
dance?”
She glanced him over and a slow smile crawled
over her lips. “Sure, but on one condition.”
“What’s that?”
She pointed at Jack. “Find someone to keep him
company and I’m all yours.”
“Oh, no problem at all, babe.”
“No, it’s fine, it’s not necessary—” Jack
protested, only to be brought a stunning redhead in a royal purple dress.
“This is Kim,” the sandy-haired stranger said.
“Junior. Art-history major.”
She smiled. “Hi.”
Jack promptly forgot how to speak English.
Kamala looped one arm through the stranger’s
and stifled a giggle before they left. “Back in a bit. Have fun!”
Jack coughed slightly and offered his hand.
“Hi, uh. I’m Jack.”
Kim took it. “Jack what?”
“Huh?”
“Your last name, silly.”
“Jackson.”
She blinked at him. “Your name is Jack
Jackson?”
He blushed. “No, uh, my first name’s Rhett,
but I hate it, so…”
He gestured to the chair and she sat. Her
dress rode up several inches, exposing pleasing long lines of creamy skin.
“Well, Jack, what’s your field of study?”
“Biological Engineering, Genetics, and
Microbiology. Post-doc. I’m working a research project at the institute.”
“Really? Oh, uh, my apple martini’s getting a
little low.”
“I’ve got that, one second.” He scurried to
the bar and bought her a fresh one. She sipped and managed to make it look not
only seductive but graceful as well.
“What do you want to do after you’re done with
the project?” Kim continued.
“Depends on what I find.”
She sent him a simmering smile. “What are you
looking for?”
Immediately, Jack’s eyes lit up and his
posture straightened. “I started the project with the intention of learning how
to increase the reproduction of certain endangered species. I had interest in
the idea of cloning, but it proved too difficult based on the research I
compiled, so I went into animal genetics and cellular biology. It turns out the
animals with the best potential to combine genes were reptiles because their
ability to lay eggs was a smoother transition into combining the cells to
create a new species, or one with a similar ancestry that could hopefully lead
to rebuilding extinct animals via surrogate birth or in-vitro fertilization.
We’re on the edge of breaking that code, and if we do, it would mean that we
could engineer all kinds of life and reverse what damage we’ve done to the
planet’s ecosystem.”
Kim stared. “Right. Would you excuse me for a
second?”
She wiggled off back to her pack of friends by
the bar. Judging by the sniggering and the disgusted glances he was getting,
she wasn’t coming back.
Jack sighed and finished off his beer,
massaging his forehead. “Yes, brilliant move. You blinded her with science.
Genius, Jack.”
He ordered a second one and finished it before
he felt smallish hands on his shoulders and a pair of soft lips on his cheek.
He turned to find Kamala had returned, her smile unnaturally bright in the
black lights glowing over the room. “So…how did it go with Kim?”
He shot her a flat look. “You notice the chair
is empty.”
Kamala groaned. “You talked about the research
project, didn’t you?”
“No!” She glared at him.
“…maybe…”
“You’re so useless, Jack.” She paused and then
tousled his hair a bit. “Cheer up. The night’s still young. I’m not giving up
on you.”
He smiled in spite of himself. “Yet.”
Her brown eyes flashed. “Never.”
She grabbed his wrists and hauled him from the
seat, dragging him into the writhing swarm of bodies on the dance floor. The
dub-step had given way to a surging reggae beat that made the very walls of the
club vibrate.
Before he could protest about his lack of
rhythm, she tugged him in close and told him to loosen up. Her body may have
been small, but the energy coursing through it made her seem so singular. She
never missed a beat, swaying, jerking her hips left to right, her mouth wide
with a smile, her dark hair fluttering over her cheeks, her hands guiding him
to mirror her movements. After a moment or two, he stopped hating the idea of
dancing. Another minute and he didn’t mind it. A third minute and he sort of
liked it a bit. A fourth minute, and he found himself thinking he could get
used to it as long as she was always his partner.
The song ended too soon for his liking,
melting into a slow dance that the DJ claimed was part of the classic oldies,
something about love making a fool of the singer. Kamala gripped his shirt and
tugged him down to her height, still grinning and breathing hard.
“See?” she murmured in his ear. “Maybe you’re
fun after all.”
She tugged him off the floor just as everyone
paired up for the slow dance, and Jack’s stomach sank a little as he followed.
She led him to the bar where Faye was doing what she did best: making men fall
over themselves to impress her. There was a towering stack of recently emptied
shot glasses beside her along with a burly twenty-something frat boy, whose
stack was slightly smaller.
“Come on, junior!” Faye laughed as the
bartender refilled her glass. “I’ve seen freshmen in undergrad take shots
better than you.”
“Aw, give me a break, babe,” the guy gasped
out after finishing his shot.
“Why should I? There’s got to be someone here
who can out-drink me.”
He leaned in with a leering smirk. “What do I
get if I beat you?”
Jack bristled and stepped up next to her. “Uh,
Faye, how many of these have you had?”
She waved the comment away. “Just a few, Buzz
Killington.”
“Since when is twelve a few? I must have
missed that day in math class. Look, maybe you should give it a rest for a bit,
huh?”
She shot him a glare. “You sayin’ I can’t
handle it?”
He took a breath to cool his temper. “I’m
saying you don’t have to.”
Her drinking companion scowled then. “Hey, the
lady can make her own decisions, man. Back off.”
Jack’s hands formed fists. Kamala pushed
through the small throng that had gathered, her voice sharp over the murmurs.
“All three of you need to chill out. Faye, you’ve had enough for tonight. Let’s
go sit down for a while.”
“Oh, don’t tell me you’re drinking his
Kool-Aid, sweetheart,” the big guy said, laying a hand on her shoulder. “She’s
tough. She can take it. I’m betting you can too.”
Kamala brushed his hand off. “Keep it up and
you’ll find out just what you can take.”
“Is that an invitation?” The hand returned at
the small of her back and she batted his arm away, angry.
“Don’t touch me.”
The stranger rolled his eyes and reached for
another shot. “God, why do the hot ones always have bitchy best friends?”
The glass had just touched the guy’s lips when
Jack’s fist crashed into his chin. His head bounced off the side of the bar and
he hit the floor, dazed. A chorus of “oohs” spread through the room like a
virus, and Kamala shoved him backward, her eyes wide, mouth agape. “Jack!”
“Call her that again,” he snarled over her
head. “Please call her that again.”
The frat boy rose to his feet, his left cheek
swelling, his face red as a stoplight. Jack shoved Kamala aside as the drunken
frat boy threw a sloppy haymaker, flinching as it bounced off his shoulder. He
then laid him out flat with a right cross.
By now, the bartender had called the bouncers,
who both hauled Jack towards the exit, though he put up no fight after he’d
downed the guy. Kamala and Faye followed him onto the sidewalk where he’d been
sprawled on his ass after a vicious shove from the bouncer.
“What the hell,
Jack?” Kamala shrieked, helping him up. “I mean…no, I was right the first time—what the hell.”
He rolled his shoulder, pulling the collar of
his shirt aside to see a bruise already forming. “Shouldn’t have called you a
bitch.”
“It’s a word. I’m not a child. I can handle
some drunken asshole calling me names.”
He frowned. “Well, I can’t. I’m sorry.”
Kamala sighed. “It’s fine. I’m glad you’re
alright.”
She instead whirled on Faye, who was clutching
a lamp post to stay upright and staring at Jack as if she’d never seen him
before. “And you! You’re going straight to bed to sleep off what has to be an
entire gallon of tequila by now.”
“Bed, huh?” Faye grinned, her slightly glazed
eyes twinkling. “Can I take Tough Guy with me?”
“Don’t start with me,” Jack growled.
“Maybe I want to,” she purred back.
“Faye,” Kamala said, giving her a shove
towards the sidewalk where taxi cabs had already begun to choke the streets.
“Not now. Walk.”
“Ugh, lighten up, babe,” Faye said, looping a
long arm around her friend’s shoulder and kissing her cheek. “We just had our
first bar fight. Best night ever!”
“I’m going to kill you in the morning.”
Why was there an elephant sitting on Jack’s
head?
He groaned, long and low, into the pillow. The
pain. Dear God, the pain. His temples throbbed in rhythm with his heartbeat and
he swore someone had delicately balanced an entire African elephant on his
skull. His stomach jostled and threatened to revolt, but he took a couple of
deep breaths and the nausea abated. All that was left was the bone-crunching
agony reverberating through his head, down his neck, and over his whole body.
Which was unnaturally warm for some reason, come to think of it.
After the pain died down enough for his senses
to work, Jack realized he was in his bed at home. The sheets smelled faintly of
fabric softener and Calvin Klein cologne, the telltale signs. The sheets were
halfway down his hips for some reason, though.
He reached to pull the covers over his head so
he could properly wallow in his misery, but said arm was occupied. He cracked
an eyelid open to figure out why.
Kamala’s adorable sleeping face was inches
away. Her head rested on the crook of his arm, which served as an impromptu
pillow. Jack paled so quickly that he got dizzy.
“Relax,” a female voice murmured. “You’re not
awesome enough for a threesome, Jack.”
His head popped up from the pillow only to
discover Faye lying behind Kamala, smiling smugly at the utter confusion on his
face.
“Wha?” He paused, trying to remember how to
talk. “Do I even want to know?”
She chuckled. “Maybe.”
She nodded towards Kamala, and Jack finally
realized why he felt so warm. She had folded her small body into his, one arm
dangling over his waist beneath the covers, the other tucked beneath her side.
He started to scoot away, but she made a noise
of protest and snuggled closer, tucking her head under his neck for warmth. He
blushed and kept still this time, glancing at the amused look on her roommate’s
face. “Ah. How?”
“Kamala drove us here,” Faye said, propping
her head up on one arm. Her hair was up in a ponytail, and curling strands
escaped to rest on her temple and nape. The other arm rested protectively on
her best friend’s hip—a clear statement, if Jack ever saw one. Conversely, her
body language practically radiated calm, like a blonde well-fed tiger. The
analogy felt about right, since he sensed that she might tear his throat out by
the end of the day.
“We iced down your shoulder and started the Family Guy drinking game with tequila shots. You know, drink
every time there’s a pointless cutaway gag or an 80’s reference. Two episodes
in and we were pretty much trashed. Kamala dozed off first, then you, and I
didn’t feel like taking the bus home, so I crawled in with you.”
“Right,” he said, licking his dry lips.
“Anything else I missed?”
“No. But I think I misjudged you.”
He stared. “You’re kidding.”
She shrugged a shoulder. “What? You’re a
textbook nerd. I sure as shit wouldn’t have guessed you could fight.”
Her eyes lit up then. “Speaking of which,
where’d that come from?”
Jack exhaled. “Aren’t you worried we’re gonna
wake her up?”
Faye gave her friend a smack on the butt.
Kamala mumbled something in Hindi and didn’t stir. “She sleeps like the dead.
We’re safe. Now spill.”
“Grew up on a farm. Never put on any muscle.
I’ve always been wiry. Got picked on sometimes. Got into a couple fights. Old
man didn’t want his kid being bullied, so he taught me how to throw and take a
punch.”
She paused. “How to take
a punch?”
Jack shrugged, but his eyes said what his
posture didn’t. “Is what it is. I don’t like to broadcast it.”
“No shit. Two hits and the guy was down.
Remind me never to piss you off.”
He smirked. “Like that’s ever stopped you
before.”
She matched the smirk. “Point taken, farmboy.”
The amusement faded and she gestured towards
his shoulder. “Sorry about last night. You were right. I was out of line.”
He shook his head. “Lost my temper anyhow.
Forget it.”
“So,” she said, narrowing her eyes slightly.
“You gonna tell her how you feel?”
Jack didn’t back down from her frostbite
stare. “Are you?”
She stopped breathing for a second. “Excuse
me?”
“You heard me,” he murmured.
Faye clenched her jaw. “Where do you get off
thinking you know anything about how I feel?”
“Same place you do, apparently.”
Her breathing spiked, and for a moment, he
thought she’d swing on him, but she cursed under her breath and held back. She
closed her eyes for a while instead. “How long have you known?”
“Few months.”
“And you didn’t say anything.”
Again, he shrugged. “None of my business.”
She snorted, glancing over Kamala. “Can’t
believe she’s fucked us both up. Figuratively speaking, of course.”
Jack choked on a laugh. “Of course.”
She met his gaze again. “You love her?”
“Dunno,” he whispered. “Never been in love.
You?”
“Maybe. Been in enough relationships to know
what it isn’t. Too chickenshit to find out for the moment. I guess you could
say I’m waiting to see what happens.”
“Well, between you, me, and the wallpaper, I
think you’ve got a better shot than I do.”
“Ha. You wouldn’t say that if you knew how she
talked about you when you’re not around.”
His brows lifted. “She talks about me?”
Faye rolled her eyes. “God, are all men this
thick or is it just you? You’ve spent a year seeing her almost every day. Your
work is what got her back on track. She thought about giving up on her career
before she found your project, Jack.”
He frowned down at the dark-haired pixie
before him. “I…didn’t know that. She’s always so fearless. I figured she knew
from the get-go what she wanted.”
“No one ever does. Why should she be any
different?” Faye tucked a lock of hair behind Kamala’s ear and listened to her
sigh. “I don’t know where this is gonna go. I don’t. And we both have a lot to
lose, but…maybe you should say something. She can’t stay in the dark forever.
It’s not fair.”
“Easier said than done.”
Faye smiled, a little sadly this time. “That’s
love, Stilts.”
Before he could say anything else, she leaned
across Kamala and kissed Jack full on the mouth.
“And if it’s any consolation,” she whispered,
their lips still touching. “It’s her loss if she says no.”
She then grinned at the stunned look on his
face. “I’m gonna go get some coffee.”
With that, Faye slipped from beneath the
covers and disappeared out of the room, humming “Silly” by Deniece Williams.
Jack stared at the doorway long after she’d gone through it and listened to
Kamala’s soft breaths against his sternum.
What is something unique/quirky about you?
I was traumatized by Jurassic Park as a kid
and I still have nightmares about velociraptors breaking into my room and
tearing me to pieces.
Tell us something really interesting that happened
to you!
I hugged Captain America! As in Chris Evans! I
attended New Orleans Comic Con in January 2017 and got a photo op with him and
it was genuinely the greatest fifteen seconds of my entire life.
What are some of your pet peeves?
Rude, lazy, or discourteous customers. I've
unfortunately been stuck working retail as a day job to support my writing and
now I have an intense dislike for retail customers. Especially ones who either
waste your time or explode on you for petty or idiotic reasons.
What are your top 10 favorite books/authors?
In no particular order, my favorite books are:
-Mr. Maybe by Jane Green
-Inheritance by Devin Grayson
-Helltown by Dennis O'Neill
-Tales of a Fourth Grade Nothing by Judy Blume
-Earthrise by M.C.A Hogarth
-Paradise Lost by John Milton
-The Iliad and the Odyssey by Homer
-Sisters Red by Jackson Pearce
-Harriet the Spy by Louise Fitzhugh
-Metamorphoses by Ovid
In no particular order, my favorite authors
are:
-Jim Butcher
-Ilona Andrews
-Brian Jacques
-J.K. Rowling
-Neil Gaiman
-Richard Castle
-Elizabeth Haydon
-Chuck Wendig
-Geoffrey Thorne
-Junot Diaz
What inspired you to write this book?
I was inspired to write Of Cinder and Bone by
a very weird thing, actually: the 2002 film 'Reign of Fire' starring Christian
Bale and Matthew McConaughey. It sounds bizarre considering that movie is
aggressively awful, but the idea that it spawned is that not too many people
write about dragons from an apocalyptic sci-fi view. I found myself in love
with the idea of dragons being real animals that fit into modern day and so I
found a way to bring them to life with realistic scientific methods and then
decided to sort of study the idea of man vs. nature vs. God, much like what was
briefly explored in the Jurassic Park film.
What can we expect from you in the future?
My future is planned out through about 2018 as
of right now. The next book in the Of Cinder and Bone series, Of Blood and
Ashes, will drop later this year, probably in the fall, but possibly in the
summer if I finish it fast enough. I am also penning a novella for The Black
Parade series that is going to premiere exclusively in an upcoming boxed set
with other fantasy authors, but once the set is gone, I will publish it
alongside the other four books in the series. After that, I'll be writing the
third book in the Of Cinder and Bone series and then see where I'd like to go
from there for beyond 2018. I have an entire library's worth of ideas, so it
really just depends on what my fancy is at the time.
Do you have any “side stories” about the
characters?
As I mentioned before, the upcoming
novella for The Black Parade series is precisely that: a side story that occurs
between the second and third novels of the series. I also have another short
story for one of the side characters in The Holy Dark, but I haven't decided if
I will fully pursue it since it's just a short story rather than a novella.
I've put it on the back burner for now, but if I pick it up and apply full
attention to it, then I may actually release another set of short stories told
by side characters.
Where were you born/grew up at?
I was born in Atlanta, Georgia and raised in a
metro-Atlanta city called Riverdale, but trust me, it has no relation to
Riverdale from the Archie comics. It's honestly no longer a nice place to live,
but it was while I was a kid. My mother's side of the family still lives there,
and so I always visit during the year.
.
Kyoko
M is an author, a fangirl, and an avid book reader. Her debut novel,
The Black Parade, has been on Amazon's Bestseller List at #5 in the
Occult Horror category. She has a Bachelor of Arts in English Lit
degree from the University of Georgia, which gave her every valid
excuse to devour book after book with a concentration in Greek
mythology and Christian mythology. When not working feverishly on a
manuscript (or two), she can be found buried under her Dashboard on
Tumblr, or chatting with fellow nerds on Twitter, or curled up with a
good Harry Dresden novel on a warm central Florida night. Like any
author, she wants nothing more than to contribute something great to
the best profession in the world, no matter how small.
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