"[A]nne Merchant finds herself tangled in a mystic plot she can't escape. Eerie visions haunt her. Whispers of her nefarious past vex her. But it's not until Ben Zin is forced to compete for the Big V—with a vengeful guardian to assure his failure—that she faces the reality of life in a world ruled by wickedness: she must embrace her inner demons to help those she loves. Hoping the ends will justify the means, Anne starts down a slippery slope that, if she lets temptation guide her, could lead her straight to the underworld."
Life and death, light and dark, spirit and flesh-on Wormwood Island, the lines are always blurred. For Anne Merchant, who has been thrust back into this eerily secretive world, crossing the line seems inevitable, inescapable, destined.
Now, as Ben finds himself battling for the Big V and Teddy reveals the celestial plan in which Anne is entwined, Anne must choose: embrace her darkly powerful connection to a woman known as Lilith and, in doing so, save the boy she loves…or follow a safer path that is sure to lead to Ben’s destruction at the hands of dark leaders. Hoping the ends will justify the means, Anne starts down the slippery slope into the underworld, intent on exploring the dark to find the light. But as the lure of Lilith proves powerfully strong, will Anne save others-only to lose herself?
“This story will envelop you in its mysteries, surprise you with its plot twists, and keep you guessing even to the last page.”—SAN FRANCISCO BOOK REVIEW
EXCERPT
"Open the book to page ninety-nine and read, and the quality of the whole will be revealed to you." --Ford Madox Ford
Here she is, my brunette friend who’s at least a foot shorter than I am but is always, even now, especially now, larger than life. She tosses down the sweater she was stretching onto a hanger and throws her arms around me, ignoring my owl-like stare and the stiffness of my drenched body as she squeezes me hard.
“You’re soaking wet, but I don’t care!”
“Oh my gosh. I was totally right about you,” I stammer.
“Good to see you, too.” Her laugh fills the room as she lets me go. When I don’t crack a smile, she shakes my shoulder like she’s waking me up. “What, has rigor mortis set in? Look alive, Anne! It’s been sooo long. Did you forget me already?”
“I was just looking for you. Ben and I. We fell. We fell into the water. Looking for you. And then the demons were there. And then. Gone.”
She smiles coyly. “Ben? Ooo la la. I want to hear everything!”
She tugs me onto her clothing-covered bed, oblivious to the fact that I’m going to drench all her stuff. She starts flouncing my wet hair over my shoulders.
“Look at you. Look at us! Roommates at Cania Mother-Effing Christy. Who’da thunk it?”
“How long, Mol? How long have you been vivified?”
*********
I know, when I look at Dr. Zin, that the devastating effects of my faulty escape were even farther reaching than I’d worried. Here stands a man who was once plastic surgeon to celebrity clientele, a man who struck me as dazzling when I first saw him, a man who could have been the poster boy for “the beautiful people”—and you would never know this man is the same man.
Raw redness covers his neck in thick flame-shaped patches, the tender-looking bottoms of which disappear under his shirt collar and the sticky tips of which stretch over his jaw where they climb like thin claws up the sides of his once-immaculate face. His broad shoulders droop under the weight of a thousand invisible demons. The black bag he carries dangles precariously on his fingertips, which have uncoiled from a fist exhausted by clenching. His feet in their scuffed wingtips are wobbly. A frown is carved into the flesh of his face. And his eyes—they are the most irreparably damaged of all. Though not burned like his skin, they are puffy with heartache and aberrantly dark; they are like the half-open flaps of a dingy cellar, revealing a darkness stacked high with shadowy boxes and crates packed to bursting courtesy of fifty years of soul-crushing experiences, not the least of which happened the other night.
As I feel Hiltop’s hungry gaze observing my reaction to this weakened, beat-down and scarred version of Dr. Zin—a version that is her own 2Excerpt: The Wicked Awakening of Anne Merchant 3 making—I look away from it all. My horror will only please Hiltop more, but what she thinks about me right now is the least of my concerns. Because this is my fault. Dr. Zin’s life would be perfectly normal, and Ben would be safe in his father’s house, if not for me. I want to tell him how sorry I am for what they’ve done to him, what they did to punish him for his son’s actions. But my lips are sealed. I don’t dare say a word, though I can’t help but think, God, is there anyone on earth I don’t have to apologize to?
“What’re these kids doing here?” Dr. Zin asks in a slur that can only mean one thing: AA is officially over for him.
Hiltop crosses the room to stand next to me and interlocks our arms like we’re old friends. She explains cheerily to the parents, “We’re writing a piece for the school paper.”
I jerk my arm free.
“What paper?” Dr. Zin asks her. She glares at him. “Oh, sure, um, the paper.”
Under my breath, I hiss at Hiltop, “You burned him? Will your punishments never end?”
“Burned Zin?” she whispers back. “On the contrary. He earned those burns in the car accident he caused years ago. I’ve simply… allowed his true self to shine through again.”
“You’re heartless.”
“Hush. He asked for them. As a reminder that he is responsible for Ben’s situation.”
Dr. Zin speaks directly to Dia Voletto this time. “May I present Mr. and Mrs. Robert Smith.” His voice cracks as he offers his black doctor’s bag to Dia. “And the vials, produced in triplicate, of the blood of their son, Damon, the next candidate for vivification at Cania Christy.”
The Smiths stand straighter and try to mask their excitement as the stage is set for this moment they’ve been waiting for—this real-life act of wondrous magic.
As I watch Dr. Zin swing unsteadily back and forth on his heels, only skittishly looking my way, Dia opens the black leather bag, the very one Teddy mentioned yesterday. He reaches into it. The Smiths gasp as he withdraws a long, glistening vial of deep mahogany-colored blood. Damon Smith in a bottle. Dia steps forward and wraps his hands around it.
Almost the moment he touches it, a piercing shrill fills the office, ripretweet this Click here to post this on TwitterExcerpt: The Wicked Awakening of Anne Merchant 4 ping my gaze from Dr. Zin. I clap my hands to my ears—the Smiths do, too—as dense air whooshes over us, seeming to fly in from behind the plaster walls. The chandeliers swing. Paintings rattle. Light-colored fragments appear from nowhere and fly toward Dia, in all directions, and then fuse, with a great sucking force that tugs at my skirt and shakes the books on the shelves, into a glowing, growing sphere in the center of the room. Dia is smiling. Dr. Zin just keeps rocking on his feet; he’s seen this a zillion times.
The Smiths, as thrilled as ever, cling to each other, welcoming this unearthly synthesis. I shield myself from the flying spots of blue and white light. Dia’s grin spreads. Hiltop’s eyes glisten—she almost looks emotional. No one can tear their gaze away as a human is re-created before us, recreated in a spectacle that is like all things on Wormwood Island: terrifying and hypnotizing at once.
And then, in a whirl that leaves me choking on my own breath, it’s done.
Damon Smith stands in the suit they buried him in. His back is to me and Hiltop; he’s next to Dia. His parents reach for him, but Dr. Zin holds them back.
“Not yet.” Dr. Zin clears his throat and, flipping open a small notebook, reads to the boy, “Damon Archibald Smith, welcome to the Cania Christy Preparatory Academy. You died of leukemia approximately five days ago in Boston, Massachusetts. You have been granted a second chance at life here on Wormwood Island by the venerable Headmaster Dia Voletto. To give you this chance, your parents have agreed to the following terms of admission: to finance the construction of Cania College on Wormwood Island and to guarantee its completion by the end of this school year.”
For the first time, the mention of Cania College interests me. What if there’s a chance that Ben can go there? If he’s decided not to throw himself on Garnet’s mercy—to date her and leave me—is there any chance he could graduate, move along to the college, and try his hand at winning life there?
But, no, surely that’s not possible.
Dia wouldn’t give us more time on earth. Why would he? Is he the devil with the heart of gold? He sent Teddy away to look for a new home for Mephisto. Is this all just about broadening their reach? High school students weren’t enough. Next up? College students. And then what? A junior high on whatever island Mephisto takes over? An elementary school? A bank, hotel, grocery store, airport, stock exchange?
As Dr. Zin finishes his robotic speech, Hiltop joins Dia at his side. Excerpt: The Wicked Awakening of Anne Merchant 5
“Please take a moment to absorb this information, Damon, following which we will reunite you with your mother and father, answer your questions and proceed with the rules of the school, the assignment of your Guardian, and the declaration of your prosperitas thema.”
“It’s your turn now,” Hiltop tells Dia with a nudge. “Take control.”
She’s broken her cover, but the Smiths would never know it. Tears stream down their faces and run into their mouths as they look at the boy they surely thought they’d never see alive again, a boy who is free of cancer. You can see them restraining themselves, clenching their fists and gritting their teeth to keep from flinging themselves at him.
“Oh, Damon!” his mother cries. Damon, I notice, has been rocking on the spot. And now, with the cry of his mother, he pivots toward her. In a slow, swaying motion. He faces Dr. Zin and his parents. I can’t help myself: I sigh with joy for the Smith family. I get it. I get why parents give up so much for this opportunity.
But he doesn’t stop. He pivots toward me. Only when he faces me does my stomach turn. Damon looks so frail and lost.
Too frail. And far too lost.
When I was vivified yesterday, I felt wonky for a while. But not for long. Did I look like Damon looks? His face is ghostly pale. His jaw is slack, his head tipped unnervingly. His irises are thin yellow lines circling his oversized pupils.
Something is very, very wrong. When the Smiths stop sobbing with joy long enough to realize that there may be little to be joyful for, the only sounds in the room become the low wheeze that leaves Damon’s mouth in choppy spurts and the creaking of the floor as he turns toward new noises.
“What’s going on?” Dia asks Hiltop through a clenched smile. “Why does he look like that?”
Mrs. Smith echoes his concern, but louder. “Damon?”
Damon shifts on instinct toward each new sound he hears, pivoting in the center of the room.
Mrs. Smith stumbles back. Away from her husband. Away from what should be her son but clearly isn’t. The blood has drained from her face just as it’s drained from Damon’s. Mr. Smith is no less horrified by the possibility of what has happened here than his wife; he’s just slower to react, slower to believe it could be so.
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About the author:
Joanna "Jobo" Wiebe is the author of "The Unseemly Education of Anne Merchant", which will be released Jan 14, 2014 - a fact she is super-stoked about. (Er, sorry: a fact about which she is super-stoked.) You should totally friend and/or fan her and add "The Unseemly Education..." to your Want to Read list. :) Like her on FB, too
Hailing from Vancouver Island, Canada, J-Dawg does her absolute best to avoid saying the words "eh" and "about", either of which cause Americans, Brits and Kiwis alike to arch an eyebrow, smirk a little, and say, "You're Canadian, eh?" #SlowClap
So why is she writing books for young adults? Well, she earned a BA in Honors English, during which time she studied creative writing and won a few awards. So she likes writing. Plus, she's big on escaping - which is probably 'cos she spent her teen years feeling absolutely trapped in an Alberta oil town. And the concept of transformation is a big one for her - and YA fiction is THE breeding ground for transformative stories. Dig it.
Obligatory Luv It List: espresso, chocolate, chocolate-covered coffee beans, chocolate martinis, espresso martinis, chocolate-espresso martinis, Savannah cats.
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1 comment:
I wanna know what this celestial plan is that Teddy reveals!
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