Skin Deep Reveal by TG Ayer

TITLE: Skin Deep

SERIES: The Darkworld Series, Volume: 1
GENRE: Urban Fantasy
PUBLICATION DATE: 30th APRIL 2013
FORMAT: Paperback, E-Book & Hardback
PUBLISHER: Infinite Ink
PAGES: 390


EXCERPT:
"The cold cocking of guns set my body on fire.
It also did something worse. With mortal fear gripping me, my imminent Change wasn't taking second place anymore. My body churned the fear and my Panther grasped at the visceral power of the adrenalin in my veins.
I ran.
A gunshot echoed around the garden, the sound ping-ponging off the aging brick walls of the surrounding apartment buildings.
I gasped as a blast of searing pain slammed into me.
As a bullet buried itself deep within my shoulder."

DESCRIPTION:
Panther Shape-shifter Kailin Odel just wants to be normal. Leaving her clan, and her Alpha responsibilities, to live with her grandmother in Chicago had been the best thing for her. Only then did she discover her ability to track and kill the soul sucking undead creatures called Wraiths. Now she protected the humans, and had something to be proud of.
But, when she discovers the body of a murdered shape shifter, Kailin has to come to terms with the reality that her own kind are just as vulnerable as the humans.
The closer Kailin gets to the killer the more she has to face the intricacies of her people. When the time comes can she accept who and what her real purpose is?

CHAPTER ONE:

Icy pain sliced through my bones, the muscles of my arms, and the flesh of my back. My spine and thighs rippled, shifted. Changing.

Damn. Too fast.

I spared a rueful glance at my new leather pants. And ran faster.

Had to make it to the Rehab Center a few blocks away. I ran, my speed super-human, my need super-charged, covering ground fast enough to make it to safety before my Panther took over.

I took the corner of the street behind the Center at breakneck speed, and headed for the nearest of the gaping holes pockmarking the rusted fence.

The wind changed before I stepped off the curb. My ears peaked and I skidded to a halt, panting slightly, my backpack thumping against my side. The scream of tires on blacktop echoed on the night air, shattering the silence as it grew ever louder.

Closer.

Followed in tandem by the whining wail of sirens. A battered sedan scorched down the street, suspended on the turn on only two wheels. The angry whip of charred rubber spiked the air. Horizontal again, the car jumped the curb and skidded sideways, avoiding a collision with the fence by mere inches.

I shrank into the shadows at my back, expelling a long, stale breath. My Panther, still confined within my body, bucked and jerked, craving release.

I let her surface.

A little.

For now, super-sight would be welcome. Unlike the ability to run like the wind while still in my Human skin, tapping into my Panther's sight required a partial transformation—a risk I needed to take as my gut screamed danger.

Adrenalin surged, different again from the calm fervor of my wraith hunts. I blinked. Heat nipped at my corneas as I released my Panther sight—enough to give my eyes feline vision.

Sight, which sliced deep into the black nothing hugging the sidewalk, transformed my eyes into a solid Panther emerald. For the moment, plain old Kailin Odel was back to being Kailin of the Clan Panthera.

My cat sight adjusted, focused. The blackness surrounding the darkened vehicle changed depth and color, became lighter, clearer.

Someone shoved the rear door open, and I cringed as it creaked and complained. The occupants remained shrouded in the shadows of the vehicle's interior. Something large, long and heavy hit the ground with a dull thunk. Then the sedan revved as unseen sirens drew closer, louder, and it spun around and skidded off the curb.

The battered car roared off, a police cruiser close on its tail with sirens screaming blue murder. It didn't take a genius to figure out the parcel had to be awfully incriminating, for them to chuck it into the garden in such a flaming hurry.

My nostrils twitched at the stench of exhaust smoke, and my heart thumped as I waited to cross the street. I flicked a furtive glance at the dull red glow of taillights disappearing into the darkness. A breeze skimmed the sidewalk, ruffling my hair, and I hurried across the street as the sounds of sirens faded in the distance. I paused a few meters from the bundle, released my Panther's nose and sniffed. Whatever I'd expected to scent on the air, it wasn't the tang of copper drifting toward me—strong, rich and intoxicating.

Blood. Fresh blood. A luscious odor, laced with tendrils of the familiar.

I moved closer, my mind warring with my emotions. This was no bundle of rags, or some stolen junk those thugs had thrown away, but a living being. The blood surely meant the person now lying on the sidewalk needed medical attention.

I stood over the bundle, the cloying odor of the blood filling my nostrils, and hesitated in a moment of doubt and fear.

Now or never.

I took a deep breath and crouched beside the silent form. My hand quivered as I reached out and touched the scratchy, ragged fabric covering the shoulder of the silent figure. At first it resisted my tug, stiff against my touch, but one more gentle urging turned him toward me.

I gasped, my throat closing on the sound. My heel caught as I pulled away, and I staggered backward as hot horror burned through my veins. The face glistened, bloody and mangled. Raw muscles and ligaments lay exposed, bare. A low moan of horror echoed around me. Chills streaked up my spine when I realized the stricken sound had originated from my own throat. The familiar richness of him clouded my mind, clogging my throat and drugging my senses.

A Skinwalker.

My throat spasmed, silencing a shriek as he stared at me. His breath whispered—shallow, irregular, the sound ragged as he labored in his final moments. He gripped with desperation to the disappearing threads which held him to this mortal earth.

His face held my gaze, and somewhere behind ribs of ice my heart clenched, threatening to implode. My own face stared back at me, reflected from within eyes as blue as oceans. Eyes filled with excruciating pain and desperate fear. He didn't speak, just studied me for a few moments with those glorious eyes.

Recognition. Gratitude. Relief.

Then... release.

Life flickered and sputtered out of his beautiful eyes—eyes unable to close even after his soul departed his mortal body. Eyes stark and ghastly within a face flayed of every inch of its skin.

Mere seconds had passed, although I would have sworn it had been hours. Screeching tires again interrupted my horror, and the sedan skidded beside me before I could do much more than scramble away from the body. The killers had managed to lose the cops, and now they'd returned to retrieve the body.

They hadn't bargained on having a witness.

The cold-cocking of guns set my body on fire.

It also did something worse. With mortal fear gripping me, my imminent Change refused to take second place anymore. My body churned the fear and my Panther grasped at the visceral power of the adrenalin in my veins.

I ran.

A gunshot echoed around the garden, the sound ping-ponging off the aging brick walls of the surrounding apartment buildings.

I gasped as a blast of searing pain slammed into me, as a bullet buried itself deep within my shoulder.

ADDITIONAL EXCERPTS

"These last few minutes had felt like days of agony and fear. My breath still came in little hysterical hiccups. Where had the cool, calm wraith hunter gone?
Things changed when hunter became prey."

***

"What have you gotten yourself into this time?" (asked Anjelo)
"Wasn't my fault...." Hard to bristle with indignation while I lay sprawled and bleeding at the feet of my scolder. I'd be wasting my breath. We'd argue again later, as I was way too tired to make the effort now.
"When is it ever? Always said one day you'll get yourself hurt. And wasn't I right?" He waved his hands at both my torn body and shredded clothes, sighing as if he were the one shot and bleeding out pints.
Oh, the drama.

***

"Clutching the phone, I whispered Anjelo's name into the device. The darned thing promptly advised me to speak more clearly, its tone annoyingly authoritative, seeming to laugh at me.
Damned machine.
Clearing my throat, I spoke his name again, this time restraining the urge to shout at the piece-of-crap phone.
Dial tone. Thank Ailuros.
"Kailin? What time is it?" Anjelo grumbled, his voice thick with sleep, grumpy and perplexed. He loved sleep, even more than his widely known love affair with Italian pasta. Nothing the school cafeteria supplied would ever tempt his taste buds. Anjelo had gourmet taste.
All he would've heard was my grunt of pain as I slid further to the floor, the phone suddenly too heavy to hold to my ear.
"Kailin, you okay?" His voice gurgled as if I were underwater—hollow, strange.
I took a deep breath and gripped the phone, pulling on every last dreg of energy, and said, "Sure. Shot. Bleeding. But okay."
My voice cracked on each syllable, and I barely heard his urgent request for my location. I scowled at the phone, again so heavy it began to pull my hand to the floor, inch by inch.
Why was he shouting at me? I could hear him perfectly.
I spoke with a false calm. "I'm at the center." Then I let the phone fall, unable to bear its incredible weight.
Scrambling. The knocking sounds of someone bumping into things in the dark. Muffled oaths, and then a slamming door.
Good. Anjelo's coming."

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

I have been a writer from the time I was old enough to recognise that reading was a doorway into my imagination. Poetry was my first foray into the art of the written word. Books were my best friends, my escape, my haven. I am essentially a recluse but this part of my personality is impossible to practise given I have two teenage daughters, who are actually my friends, my tea-makers, my confidantes… I am blessed with a husband who has left me for golf. It’s a fair trade as I have left him for writing. We are both passionate supporters of each other's loves – it works wonderfully…

My heart is currently broken in two. One half resides in South Africa where my old roots still remain, and my heart still longs for the endless beaches and the smell of moist soil after a summer downpour. My love for Ma Afrika will never fade. The other half of me has been transplanted to the Land of the Long White Cloud. The land of the Taniwha, beautiful Maraes, and volcanoes. The land of green, pure beauty that truly inspires. And because I am so torn between these two lands – I shall forever remain cross-eyed.

The Unexpected Praise

Believe it or not I was going to write a blog about toe jam today. Surprisingly, I had about a million things to say on the topic, especially in light of the fact that I've been hunting down nasty smells wherever I go and have been suspecting random feet to be the culprit - the latest incident being cleared as a "butter" accident in the backseat of my mother's car, but I digress ...
Today I write a blog about unexpected praise instead, much to the delight of those of you screwing up your faces in horror at the initially proposed post. I now wander through the tides of mutual admiration with a fellow author, hand in hand as he compares me to Wonder Woman and comments on my witty repertoire. Oh yes. Since reading this entirely too flattering post I have been like the cat that caught the canary, licking my whiskered chops and fanning my flushed flesh after reading several paragraphs of author love.
Naturally it made me think, "Am I truly this awesome?"
The cheerleader in me was lifting her pom poms screaming Y. E. S - Yes! The pessimist in me was shaking her head and wondering, why the hell this fellow author would give a damn about my review of his book?
*wipes nervous sweat from brow* luckily I rated him well. Orders for super secret ninjas and Mexican hit men have been put on the back burner for now. And although I don't truly believe for a second that a bad review would've earned me a ... wait, I think I hear someone cocking a shotgun outside my window.
Kidding.
But, the sincerity of such a post made me realise how often our sometimes cavalier words can be valued or condemned by others. Of course I still think I talk a lot of sh#$t ninety percent of the time but I always try to ensure that the ten percent you do understand via my writing and Aussie slang is honest, fair and constructive. To have my opinions valued so highly was both an honor and an ever present responsibility I'd like to uphold for future authors and their reviews. Thanks, John Hundley - it's nice to be regarded as a professional in my field with views that inspire and incite compliments like "Berridge is a babe".
So in the true spirit of unexpected praise, I'd like to do a shout out to a few fellow authors that both inspire me with their writing,  their motivation to succeed and naturally, the super dooper nice things they say about me.
Ps - I'm not kidding about that guy outside my window, he now has a shotgun in one hand, a samurai sword in the other and a one eyed-cat staring me down with a switchblade in claw. Where does the agency find these miscreants?
Pps - you can check out the blog in question here

AUTHOR LOVE

John Hundley - The Draculata Nest & The Dragon of Doughton Park

Madison Daniel - Ember & Downpour

Donna Usher - The Seven Steps to Closure
TG Ayer - Dead Radiance & Dead Embers
James Garcia Jnr - Dance on Fire & Flashpoint

Book Review: Dead Embers by T.G. Ayer

Dead Embers by the talented author T.G Ayer ... what can I say? 
This secondary novel in the Valkyrie series is packed so full of action and adventure that there's barely a moment's pause. Where other books may accentuate the blossoming love between protagonists or explore the gritty side of crime, T.G Ayer stays right on the money, never losing sight of her plot, it's ever-thickening drama and the overall end game.
Picking up where the first novel left off, we once again follow the action and musings of Bryn Halbrook - recently inducted Valkyrie, skilled fighter, treasure hunter and soldier of the gods.
Bryn is still shadowed by the choices of her last mission, the love of her mortal life Aidan, poisoned by the trickster god Loki and relegated to the depths of Hel. Still expected to requisition the recently deceased from Midguard, and re-establish the warrior ranks in Asgard, Bryn is forced to focus on her latest mission - discovering why the chosen warriors bookmarked to stand in the fight with Odin during the approaching war are plagued with a sticky, black substance stealing the chance of rebirth.
Teamed with this mystery, Bryn is challenged by the trust of her friends, tasked with an aside mission into the dwarf compound to kill the evil queen, cure the sick granddaughter of a dragon shifter while still finding time to lead other Valkyries into battle and find a way to bring Aidan back from Hel and into her arms.
Hands down this sequel excels the first. Why? There was not one moment where dialogue seemed monotonous or pointless. Action was fast-paced and necessitated through carefully constructed piecing in the plot. Answers from the first book were uncovered as well as a few new mysteries added for spice. Above all the characters maintained complete consistency and I found myself drawn to a few of them, wishing I could read their side stories, delve deeper into their pasts and unearth greater content.
All in all this was an exceptionally well written novel with detailed imagery and tempered back story. Without bias I will happily be rating this novel four and a half fangs out of five and look forward to the next chapter in Bryn Halbrook's very coloured unlife.

Synopsis:

Valkyrie-in-training Bryn Halbrook just can't catch a break. With her boyfriend stuck in Hel and the taunting laughter of Loki still ringing in her ears, she struggles to concentrate on her training and duties in Odin's realm. The last thing she expects or wants is more adventure—but then treachery, a shocking abduction and a chilling discovery send her forth on another perilous, globe-hopping mission.
As the ultimate battle, Ragnarok, draws closer, it's a race against time for Bryn, Fenrir and their team to discover who kidnapped her foster brother from the halls of Asgard and what's causing the mysterious deaths of so many of Odin's chosen warriors.
In the exciting sequel to DEAD RADIANCE, Bryn encounters dwarfs and dragons, new friends and old foes—but worst enemy of all may be the person she trusts most!

Book Review: "Dead Radiance" A Valkyrie Novel by TG Ayer

Thanks to a generous author, I downloaded Dead Radiance via a Kindle freebie day. I'd never read a book based on Norse Mythology before, and I was curious but also reluctant. There was something about the cover of the novel that gave me pause and I'm still unsure why.
Regardless, I thought, try something new.
Dead radiance centers around an orphan girl by the name of Bryn Halbrook. Passed around from foster home to foster home, Bryn finally settles into a semi-ordinary life in the town of Craven. An understanding foster mother, loving foster siblings, and friend to now ease the all consuming feelings of neglect deep down, Bryn still can't find happiness.
The past and the present haunt her.
A strange glow is emitted from the people she cares about and it soon becomes clear that Bryn is far from ordinary, the glow not some essence of gleaming goodness, but a foretelling of certain death.
Losing people starts to become familiar for Bryn. A heart already rocked by the death of her father and a childhood of broken homes, foreseeing death adds to the pile of questions surrounding her unnatural gift. Finding Aidan never came at a better time. Handsome, intriguing, and downright distracting, Bryn is soon desperately in love with the biker boy filled with the promise of hope but also burdened with a twisted agenda. He knows the truth of her origins, the truth of her abilities, and now also holds the key to her heart. The crazy thing is - it's only the beginning. An unfolding of a whole other realm and backlog of historical information is soon thrown at you. Wings, swords, Asgard and the food of the Gods. How did such an  ordinary story about girl meets boy soon become the epic telling of the Valkyries?
You'll have to read Dead Radiance to find out.
What I truly appreciated the most in this novel was that the author had a real sense of appreciation for words. The imagery was beautiful, each sentence hand-crafted to paint an explicit picture of detail. I always had a sense of what I was looking at in my mind's eye - a clear image of character detail and surrounding scenes. Yes, there were some spelling and punctuation errors, but aren't there always some in a novel? And it certainly wasn't enough to be distracting.
The characters themselves were well written and easy to relate. There were no major deviations in character growth or portrayal which was greatly appreciated given the course of ultimate change that the novel takes on. There was nothing about the story that I didn't especially like but again, just like the cover image, there was something about it that didn't quite speak to me. However, I can happily give the book three out of five well deserved fangs.

Synopsis:
Bryn Halbrook had always seen the glow. But it is only when her best friend dies that she discovers the meaning of those beautiful golden auras - death. Alone, lost in the foster system, she struggles to understand who she is and why she was cursed with the ability to see the soon-to-be-dead.
The foster kid, Aidan, isn't helping any. Mr Perfect seems to fit in no matter what, making her feel even more pathetic. But when his affections turn to her, Bryn finds him hard to resist. Impossible actually. A mystery himself, Aidan disappears, leaving behind a broken heart and a mysterious book that suggests Bryn might not be entirely human.
Bryn stands at the threshold of a journey of discovery. Will destiny help her find herself, find her purpose and her place in a world in which she'd never belonged?

Kristy :)