Burnt (22 page)

Burnt

Forgotten

US:
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00AFB2ENA

https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/260104

UK
:
https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B00AFB2ENA

Destiny

Lost

(Coming July 2013)

Misery

(Coming
fall 2013)

First and most importantly, I need to thank everyo
ne else who helped me build this world. There are so many, and I don’t know names for at least half. But there are a few that deserve special attention: Michelle W., Kate C., Phil S. and Larina W., you guys breathed life into something flat and over-done. It’s only because of the unexpected (and in one case, terrifically traumatic) paths you took my world down that I have anything to write about at all. Michelle and Kate I am especially thankful for. You two poked, prodded, nagged and encouraged, whenever I needed it. I can’t even imagine where I would be without you two.

Nathan,
was under no obligation whatsoever, yet he spent hours picking apart every bit of this book. He says he was mean, but don’t you believe it. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

My family gets some mention, as well. They put up with a lot more than I’m willing to
admit to. I love you guys.

My co-workers should probably be thanked. I suppose. They did listen to me go on and on about this book.
And on. And on. So yeah. Thanks Anthony Timmerman, Andrew L., Jake R. and Dave Wolf. Especially Anthony, who is absolutely the best cheerleader anyone could hope for, and might actually be rooting for this book more than I am.

M
uch appreciation to the Nishant, Debbie and the staff of Biggby’s Coffee here in South Lyon. I can honestly say that none of this would be possible without the fuel and quiet corner to escape you provided for me. You guys are the best!

Finally, to those people who took a chance on
Burnt
and the Blood and Fire Saga. Especially the ones who took the time to review it. You people are amazing.

Lyn lives in Michigan. It’s cold there most of the time. She is not a fan. She spends entirely too much time there playing video games and watching Netflix. Sometimes even with people!

She started reading when she was six years old, when she met a girl younger than her who could read the whole menu at a restaurant and it brought out her competitive side. Within a month she was reading chapter books, and since then she’s devoured just about every book she’s come across.
Four years later she started writing a horrible story about orphans.

She’s a fan of amusing t-shirts, shiny new electronics, science fiction TV shows and cartoons. It’s also a safe bet to assume she’s into anything else remotely dorky.

Sneak peek at Book Two

O
f The Blood and Fire Saga

Pain tore throu
gh him, like a stream that flowed to every inch of his body was lit on fire. He longed to pass out, to be done with it, but even that release was denied him. Kaie tried to be still this time, but the shaking started despite his best efforts. He could feel the spittle rolling down his cheek, was aware of warm urine spreading between his legs, but could do nothing about it. Even if his arms weren’t strapped down to the table, such efforts were well outside his abilities at that moment.

He tried to hold on to the go
od memories at first. The girl with the long white-blond hair who kissed him, the sweet smell of the lilacs blooming near the shack, the night when he was able to get well and truly drunk…but those didn’t hold against the Namer’s attention. They tore up like paper.

Desperate, he turned to the ugly ones: the slap of fists against his flesh, the taste of blood on his tongue, the sting of the lash against his back, the sound of that girl crying when she thought he was asleep,
and the hazy memory of going through this before…Those lasted a while. They hurt, every one of them, and for a while he could hide there, mixed in with all the other hurts she was giving him. But she found him eventually. And then she ripped those memories apart just as easily.

He panicked. She was taking everything and leaving him empty. That couldn’t be allowed to happen, he knew. He couldn’t remember why, but he knew that it would be bad. Very bad. But there wasn’t much left for him to hold on to. She was smashing through unimportant things now. The feel of grass under his feet. The smell of
the wooden walls. He didn’t know what to do.

Then he found it. It was small. But, for some reason he didn’t understand, it was strong. Far stronger than anything else he had in him. So he grabbed on to it and clung. And for a while, not long, but enough, he forgot about the pain.

She pulled away slowly, a frown on her face. He forgot what to call her, at first. It came back slowly. Namer. There was someone else behind him. A girl. Young. She darted forward and began wiping his face with a damp cloth. It was cool. It was amazing. He smiled at the girl gratefully. Her eyes locked with his for a moment, then she paled and darted away again.

The Namer rubbed at her temples, look
ing drained. “What is your name?”

He smiled
again. He knew that. It was his thing. His small, strong thing. “Kaie.”

Both the women sighed.

“Namer, how many times can we do this? How many more can he survive?”

“At least one more.”
The woman – the Namer – was pale and severe. Her dark hair was pulled away from her face in a bun so tight he wondered if she was trying to slowly pull it all out of her head. “I am going to Uraz, to speak with the Council. Put him back where he belongs.”

The girl inclined her head in acquiescence
and began tugging on the belts that held him to the table.

“And Kissa?”

“Yes Namer?”

“No
riots this time. I will not tolerate another incident like this morning. And I when I return, I will not hear ‘Kaie the Unbroken’ uttered even once. Do you understand? Not once.”

A girl looked down at him. Her long blonde hair formed a tent around them, tickling his chin and ears. She wasn’t beautiful in any normal way. Her face was mostly sharp angles and too pale by half. But her eyes, huge and the darkest blue saw right through to the center of him. She smiled, and he knew that she approved of what resided there. He reached up to brush her cheek, filled with the need to discover just how soft that fair skin of hers was.

A clang at the door brought him back to himself, banishing the girl like a gust of wind catching dandelion seeds. Kaie sighed and rubbed his eyes clear of the last traces of the dream. He sat up slowly, already missing the dream, and picked up the tray of food.

It was always the same. The metal slot at the bottom of the door would open, and a tray would slide through. It was always the same food. Greasy broth with chunks of tasteless meat. Stale bread. Tepid water. It would come again later.

He figured the intervals to be about ten hours. But that was estimation at best. There was a lamp on the ceiling. It never flickered.
Useless to keep time with. He saw no one save his large-eyed phantom. The trays were taken and the bucket he shat in was cleaned while he slept. Earlier or later, it made no difference. If he didn’t sleep, they weren’t. No help there.

So he kept time by counting.
A constant, steady beat. Always in the back of his mind. 1,382,101. 1,382,102. Even in his dreams he counted.

He was finished eating. Kaie sent aside the tray and began his routine.
First, running in place. Knees high. Fast as he could. For a count of 600. 1,382,721. He was working his way up. The first day, he only managed a count of 97. Now, he was starting to feel like he could run away. When the opportunity came. And it would.

After that, he rested. Not because he needed to. Not anymore. But there was so little to occupy his time. It was better to break up his tasks.

Next he did push-ups. Until his arms shook. There wasn’t much room for them. But he found that if he angled his body properly in the cell, it worked just fine. 1,383,621. Then another rest.

Sit-ups followed that. Those weren’t as easy. The food didn’t sit well on his stomach. Crunching it over and over made things worse. Kaie did them anyway. 1,384,521. Rest.

Squats now. They made his legs burn. More than the running. 1,385,444.

Another rest.
Then he hit the wall. Even breathing. Light punches. The scabs on his knuckles broke open. Again. Soon the wall was covered with his blood. It hurt. It all hurt. But he kept going.

There wasn’t enough to do. Not to fill the hours. His body got tired.
Less every day. But there was no healer. He needed to be careful. Couldn’t push too hard.

So he trained his mind.
Math problems. Logic puzzles. Escape plans. Lots of escape plans. Anything he could think of. He was going to be strong, when the time came. Strong enough to run. Strong enough to fight. Strong enough to get away.

1,420,514. The door clanged. Another tray slid into the cell. He ate everything. Just like always. It wasn’t enough. He was too thin. Kaie laughed.
Another thing to complain about.

Really, people.
If you’re going to imprison someone for 1,420,995 seconds, couldn’t you at least try to feed them properly?

He would bring it up before the rest of his list. He wanted to make sure it sank in. After, they would be distracted.
Very distracted.

Kaie set the tray on top of the other. He stacked the bowl and cup. It was time for the final part of his routine.

He picked at the drying blood on his left hand. A glob of fresh stuff welled up underneath. He walked to the door. Kaie carefully coated the first two fingers on his right hand. It was time to write what he knew.

All memories of his past were gone. He didn’t know where he came from or why he was in the cell. He thought he was there before he remembered, before the Namer and the girl Kissa. Not for any particular reason. It was just a feeling he got. He didn’t know if it was day or night. He didn’t know if the girl in his dreams was real, or just a product of his imagination.

But he knew two things with absolute certainty. And so he wrote them on the door. With his blood. Before he went back to sleep. Every day. It was gone when he woke. But that was good. Because it meant they read it. That his captors saw the things he knew.

I am Kaie.

I will be free.

1,421,268.