Grace took his hand, raised it to her lips, and kissed it. “I really want to kiss you on the mouth, but I’m not moving.”

He smiled and bent down. He kissed her, entwining his fingers through hers. He moved to lay on top of her. Waves of warmth that had nothing to do with the weather went through Grace. She held on to his hands tightly as he brought them up over her head. She felt completely exposed to him, physically and emotionally.

He pulled away after a moment and kissed each of her cheeks.

“Dar,” she whispered, “I don’t want to keep sneaking around.”

His smile faded. He let go of one of her hands and ran his fingers along her jaw. “I know. I don’t either.”

“So?” she asked, raising her eyebrows.

“Your father wouldn’t approve of me.”

She huffed. “Do you even know why he doesn’t like your family?” She didn’t understand her father’s hostility towards them, considering Dar’s father was a respected governor. Things like wealth and status mattered to her father, who was the king’s general. Grace had only met Dar’s parents a few times, and they seemed like good people who ruled Shyra well. His mother had always been friendly to her at social events.

Dar didn’t meet her eyes. “I have an idea.”

“You do?”

He kissed the line of her jaw softly, sending shivers down her spine. “I think so.”

She wouldn’t be distracted. “Well, what is it?”

“Shyra doesn’t have a very good reputation.”

In court, Shyra was mostly spoken of as a poor and mysterious state overrun with fake magicians and crime. She’d only been there once and it seemed like a typical farming state, not much worse than the seedy areas of Renaul. If someone as good as Dar came out of it, the place couldn’t be horrible. He kissed her neck, and she closed her eyes.

“I don’t know,” she said, her voice shaky. “It seems like more than that.”

“Maybe you should ask him.”

She laughed. “He probably doesn’t even realize we know each other.”

Dar raised his head, meeting her eyes. “You probably know me better than anyone.”

She furrowed her brow. “I don’t know. . .” She trailed off as she ran her fingers through his soft curls. “It seems like there’s a lot about you I don’t know.”

“You know the important things,” he said, his voice quiet.

She didn’t say anything for a moment. She wished that were the case, but she doubted it. It hurt because she knew the opposite was true: Dar knew her better than anyone. He had some competition with Jocelyn, her closest friend since childhood, but Grace felt like she’d always hidden something from her, as well as from her parents and her brother. Not one specific thing or an unseemly secret about herself, just something about her very nature, as though she may not be good enough.

She’d never had those fears with Dar. She’d given all of herself to him in the last six months, even if it hadn’t been wise. Their relationship had started off playful, but she’d fallen for him quickly. He knew everything about her, from the birthmark on her stomach to how she liked her tea to her secrets, fears, and dreams. Yet Dar still had his secrets and a past that he tried to keep hidden.

“What about what happened two years ago?” she asked.

Dar’s jaw tightened. He lay down next to her, resting his head on her shoulder. He’d talked about some kind of tragedy that happened two years ago in Shyra, but he’d never given her the details. She’d never pushed him, but now she wanted to know.

“My parents took in two girls when I was four. They were pretty much my sisters.”

Grace touched the back of his head, her eyes wide. She’d always thought Dar was an only child.

“Two years ago. . .my family got into some trouble, and a lot of people were killed. One of my sisters nearly died, and the other disappeared. I haven’t seen her since.”

He’d lost so much. She feared saying anything in case he withdrew again. She ran her fingers through his hair. His body moved softly against hers as he breathed in and out.

“I want to see her again. I want to apologize for everything.”

“What would you say?” she whispered.

“‘Sierra, I’m sorry. I never should have let. . .’” Dar trailed off. He sat up suddenly, his back to Grace.
She sat up and felt flowers fall from her hair. She touched his shoulders, and he tensed.

He got to his feet and kept his face averted from her. “I want that stuff to stay in the past, Grace. I don’t want it to come between us.”

She pursed her lips. Couldn’t he see that keeping things from her would come between them? After standing, she started to gather up the blanket. “Well, then, you shouldn’t say things like that.”

“Things like what?”

“‘You know me better than anyone.’” His gaze lingered on her as she folded the blanket. She looked at him, and he crossed the distance between them.

“I wish I could tell you everything.” He put his hands on her shoulders. “But I know it’s better for both of us if I don’t.”

She stepped away and picked up the blanket. “We should go. We’ve been here for two hours already.”

Dar took the blanket from her, and she picked up her bag. Maybe she was being unreasonable. She took his hand and leaned towards him. Why did he feel like he couldn’t tell her things about him? She’d told him everything about her.

They walked silently to the end of the vineyard where they came from, the opposite end of Sir Henry’s manor. The grapes twisted around wires and poles on either side of them. Dar took a few grapes and handed some to Grace. She played with them, running her fingers over the dusty surface.

“Do you talk to Lady Rebekah about your past?” she asked, her eyes on the ground.

Dar laughed. “No. Rebekah and I don’t talk about anything deep at all. When I talk with her, I think about you. When I kiss her, I think about you.”

He thought about Grace, and yet he was courting Rebekah. Not her. She hated to think of him kissing someone else, especially Rebekah. Flighty, shallow Rebekah.

They reached the spot where they usually parted ways. “I’ll see you later?” Dar said.

She nodded and glanced down at their hands. “Nothing in your past could change the way I feel about you. I care about you. Not what’s happened to you.”

He kissed her, holding her face in his hands. He pulled away and rested his forehead on hers. “I know.”

She stepped back. “Goodbye.” She turned and left. A few minutes later, she looked over her shoulder, but he was gone. He did that often: just disappeared. She worried he’d do that to her someday, just leave her behind without a thought.

***

Meet me at The Boar’s Bar at midnight. Come alone.

Grace stuffed the note into her pocket. She didn’t recognize the handwriting, and there was no name. Her attempts to guess who might have sent it were fruitless, but it had to have been someone who knew her curiosity often overruled her common sense. She hoped it was Dar, even if it wasn’t a very original way to get her alone. Since their small argument in the vineyard a couple days ago, she’d been waiting for a chance to see him.

A stout man stumbled to the barstool next to her. “Another pint!” he yelled at the bartender. He looked at Grace through his greasy blond hair. “Well, hello! Haven’t seen you around here before.”

Grace gave him a tight smile. Could he be the one who sent the note? He wasn’t the type she was expecting, to say the least. “I’ve never been here before.”

“Really? What do you think so far?” he asked.

She glanced around the tavern. Pockets of people were rowdy while others sat by themselves in the corners. A strong smell of garlic hung in the air. It wasn’t of the worst she’d seen in Renaul, but she knew her mother would faint if she knew Grace was here. She light was dim, but still, she didn’t see any nobles. She shrugged and noticed that his eyes were roving over her traveling cloak, no doubt looking for some bared skin. “It seems like a normal tavern to me.”

The man laughed as the bartender returned with another pint. “I’ll have you know that this is the best bar in the city.” He paused to take a gulp of his beer. “Can tell why you’ve never been here, though. Too rich for us folk, yeah? Had to travel all the way across the river?”

If he was the one to ask her here, why was he making conversation like this? Grace sipped her mead. “What makes you think that?”

He was about to respond when he looked over her shoulder and fell silent. Someone tapped her on the arm. Grace turned around; a man with a hood pulled over his head bowed and said, “Lady Grace.”

His voice was almost drowned out by the people around them, but she thought it might be Dar’s. She smiled. “You still insist on being anonymous?”

“Perhaps we could talk outside,” he said. She could only glimpse the lower half of his face, the outline of his jaw. In the dim light, she couldn’t make any conclusions about his identity.

Grace stepped off her barstool. She told the man at the bar, “Goodnight, sir.”

“Tha’s how I know—normal people don’t talk like that,” the man said as she followed the hooded figure outside.

The brisk night air hit Grace as soon as the man opened the door for her. She saw his hand on the door—pale, short fingers, a silver ring around his pinky. He wasn’t Dar. She pulled her cloak around her, her mind racing with questions.

The smell of garlic lingered outside, too. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the man grab for her arm. She stepped away, avoiding his hand. “Why did you want me to come here?”

The man glanced around, his face turned toward a pair of men by their horses, laughing. One of them stumbled on something, falling to the ground, and they just laughed harder.

“We’re alone,” Grace said, “so get on with it.”

“I’m here about Dar from Shyra,” the man said. “He is not safe for you.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Excuse me?”

“I know you desire each other, but he is dangerous. I’m here in your best interest, Lady Grace. He will be of no good to you.”

Who was this man? If he’d seen it, then who else had? She took a step toward him, but he moved away from her. She narrowed her eyes. “Who are you?”

“The note was anonymous, and that’s how I choose to stay. You must know that you and Dar come from two different worlds.” His voice filled with disgust. “It’s simply impossible to think a lady of your standing could be with something like him.”

“He’s a noble, as well.” She almost spoke about Dar’s courtship with Rebekah, but she caught herself, knowing she shouldn’t defend Dar or herself. “It makes no difference since we’re not involved.”

“Please, I’m not blind,” the man said, his voice rising.

Grace tried to laugh; it didn’t sound very convincing. “So, this is why you asked me to come? To warn me against a man I have nothing to do with?”

“You need to set your sights on another noble. Dar is not what you think he is.”

“I’m not interested in him,” Grace said, raising her voice. “But even if I were, who are you to tell me to whom I should direct my affection?” She made a grab for his hood, but he moved away quickly and her fingers caught the air. “Do you have any idea to whom you speak?”

His mouth twisted in a smile. “You’re Lady Grace Ellengreen, and your father is a General in the King’s army. I don’t think he would like to hear about your relationship with Dar.”

Grace stiffened. She wanted to scoff about how old-fashioned her father was, unable to see how the norms between men and women were changing, independent of parental desires, but she didn’t want to admit anything to this stranger. Whatever had caused it, the hostility between her father and Dar’s was enough to keep her quiet. Or enough to search out Dar in the first place. Probably both.

“Our nonexistent relationship?” she asked. “What are you going to tell him, that even though Sir Dar and Lady Rebekah have been courting for eight months—”

“I’ll tell him about your meeting in the greenhouse.”

Grace froze and she clenched her fists. How did he know about that? They’d been completely sure to cover up their trail.

“Or the time at the masquerade ball.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Her voice came out stronger than she felt.

“I’ll tell him if it will get you away from Dar. He’ll only bring you danger and death.”

“Who are you, that you have such an interest in my well-being?” Perhaps this man was some kind of an admirer. Was he saying these things because they were true or because he wanted her? It may be conceited to think such things, but why else would he be warning her? He couldn’t be telling the truth about Dar. There was no way.

“I already told you, you won’t find out.” The man backed away. “Take heed, Lady Grace. Don’t let your foolishness run away with you.”

Grace glared at him as he moved toward the stable. She rushed after him, raising her skirts and nearly tripping over loose stones in the road. She intended to follow him, but when she reached the stable, his horse went galloping past her, sending up a cloud of dirt that made her cough. He faded into the darkness, and she knew she’d never catch up to him without more comfortable riding clothes on.

Her heart pounded as she untied and mounted her horse. Who was he? Why did he care what she did with Dar? Would he tell anyone about her relationship with Dar? And did any of the things he’d said have truth to them?

She and Dar had started seeing each other six months ago. It was just kisses at first, but then they began to meet at night, talking in earnest, sending private letters, meeting in Sir Henry’s vineyard. They kept their relationship secret since he made no indication of wanting to leave Lady Rebekah, and the thought of doing something without the knowledge of her parents or older brother excited her. She soon started to feel taken advantage of, even though they weren’t sleeping together, and whenever she tried to press the issue of him breaking it off with Rebekah, he would push the conversation elsewhere.

A familiar sense of indignation rose up in her on the way back to the manor. Why did he insist on remaining quiet about her? Maybe he was ashamed of her and he just used her father’s hostility towards his family as an excuse. But then that would mean he’d lied to her time and time again when he said she was unlike other nobles because she cared about people, because she listened to him, because there was something different about her. She didn’t think she could accept that he’d been lying the entire time. His feelings for her weren’t a lie. They couldn’t be, not when he gained nothing but her company from their relationship, not even sex.

She played the conversation with the hooded man over and over in her mind. Two different worlds. Not safe. No good. Danger and death. For weeks she’d tried to reconcile her situation with Dar. She’d give Dar one chance to explain what the man was talking about, and then. . .

She didn’t want it to end; but was the curiosity she’d had about Dar since they were children enough to keep her with him? She couldn’t deny he was one of her best friends now. The last six months had been some of the happiest of her life. She sometimes felt as though she was becoming a woman because of her time with him, as though the world was being opened up to her.

Was it those things or was it the mystery of him, the rebelliousness of being with the son of a man her father hated, the feel of knowing she could have something that belonged to Rebekah Mortren, whom she’d envied since she was young? She couldn’t tell where her real feelings for him began.

The Ellengreen estate was quite large, even for a noble family. The stone manor loomed high in the sky, blocking out the stars. Gardens and grassy lawns surrounded it. Almond trees lined along the back of the manor. Grace’s father allowed peasants to use the fruit for income, taking a profit of the money they earned.

Grace approached the stables slowly. Her mother went to bed around eight o’clock, and her father was training with troops, but she knew her brother had recently been taking late night rides. She and Dar had narrowly avoided him a few times over the last couple weeks. Tonight, however, his horse was in its stall.

Grace dismounted her horse and led her to its stall. When she turned around, someone stood in the door, and she jumped in shock. She recognized Dar’s face and put her hand over her heart. “Don’t do that!”

Dar chuckled. He glanced at the horse and Grace’s traveling cloak. “Where have you been?”

Grace came out of the stall, closing the door behind her. “What are you doing here?”

“I just thought I’d drop by. I whistled nearly twenty minutes ago.” He reached for her waist, but Grace stepped away.

“I was at the Boar’s Bar,” she said.

Dar’s brow furrowed. “At this hour? Why?”

She took the note from her pocket and held it out for him. He read it, then looked at her with wide eyes. “Did you go alone?”

She huffed. “Oh, I forgot you’re still with my father in the last century. I can take care of myself.” She opened her cloak and showed him where her dagger hung from her waist.

“As skillful as you are, without it, you’d be powerless. You’re not exactly someone of stature.” He half-smiled, holding his hand up to her head, which barely reached his shoulders.

She glared at him. “I’m not completely helpless.”

He waved a hand. “All right, whatever you say.” He held up the note. “Who was it?”

“I don’t know. He never took his hood off, but he knows about us.”

Dar’s eyes widened, and he straightened up. “How?”

“I don’t know. He knows about the greenhouse and the masquerade ball.”

“What did he want?”

Grace paused, meeting his eyes. “He said you were dangerous.”

Dar broke eye contact, and his shoulders sagged.

Her eyes widened. So there was some truth to it. “He said you would only bring me danger and death, that you were no good for me, we were from two different worlds.” Grace tried to catch his eyes again, but he was looking at her horse now. “Dar?”

He shook his head. “I should have known this couldn’t last.”

“What do you mean?” When he said nothing, she put her hands on his shoulders and turned him to face her. “What was he talking about?”

Dar stepped away, running a hand through his dark hair. “What did he look like?”

“I told you I didn’t see him.”

“What about his skin color?”

She paused. “It was fair.”

“As fair as yours?”

“It was dark in the pub, I don’t know. What does it matter?”

“What does it matter?” he repeated, looking at her sharply. “I need to know who he is. And why he’d lure you out there alone, just to. . .he could have killed you!”

“There were plenty of people around,” she lied. “Now, tell me what he was talking about.”

He didn’t respond. He was pacing around in the straw, mumbling under his breath.

“What did he mean, two different worlds? Shyra?” Grace asked, raising her voice. Dar’s home state wasn’t so different from Renaul. “It’s not so—”

“He’s right.” Dar stopped pacing and looked at Grace. “I was stupid to think this could work.”

She frowned, and her hidden feelings of incompetence since they’d started meeting in secret came again. She clenched her hands into fists. “Right. I should have known, too. I was just a few thrills on the side while you and Rebekah—”

“Rebekah?” Dar scoffed. “Oh, please, Grace, she’s nothing. Our courtship is an act, a cover-up.”

“A cover-up for what?”

“No. This is. . .bigger than just us. I shouldn’t have brought you into this.”

“Into what?” Grace asked, but she knew she was losing him. He was already drifting away, his stubbornness taking over the one-sided conversation. She swore and struck the stall door next to her. “I should have ended this a long time ago, before you made me feel like a complete fool.”

Dar nodded. “I should go back to Shyra.”

Her mouth fell open, and she stared at him. “What?” That was the last thing she’d been expecting. Why wasn’t he defending himself?

Dar stared past her, and she stepped forward, trying to put herself in his line of vision.

“Don’t I deserve to know what’s going on?”

“Grace, don’t—”

“We’ve been together for six months!” Her voice was unsteady. “I think I have a right to know what that man was talking about!”

“No, you don’t.” He started pacing again. “I can’t do this any longer. I keep trying to have it both ways, have you and be normal, but it can’t be that way. I have two choices now: giving you everything or leaving you behind.” He stopped, looking at Grace. He closed the distance between them. He leaned forward to set his forehead against hers. Her breath caught in her throat, and she closed her eyes. “You don’t know how much I want that first choice. . .but I can’t do that. We’re both lucky he decided to warn you instead of. . .”

Grace opened her eyes and took hold of his shirt. She knew if she asked the questions burning inside her—instead of what? Are you dangerous? Why?—he’d withdraw from her.

“You don’t have to leave,” she said. The distance was so far, nearly two days. She’d resolved to let go of their late night meetings, but couldn’t imagine not even seeing him at social events. “You don’t have to go back to Shyra.”

“Yes, I do.”

“You’re not going to tell me the truth, are you?” she whispered.

Dar shook his head. “I want to keep you safe.”

Grace took a step back, fighting off tears. “For all I know, you could have sent someone to tell me those things, just so you could have a way out.” Her voice came out shaky, and she hated it.

His eyes widened. “Grace.”

“You knew I’d go, even though it was stupid.”

Dar raised his voice. “I didn’t send that note.”

“Then who did?” Grace demanded. She couldn’t believe this was happening, that he was treating her like this, like the last six months meant nothing to him.

“I can’t tell you.”

“You won’t tell me. But I could find out.”

“Really? How are you going to do that?”

She glared at him. Dar touched the side of her face and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “Don’t make this harder for either of us. That man was right; I’m not safe for you.”

She tried to meet his eyes, but he was looking at her blonde hair as he twirled some of it around his finger, like he used to when they were hidden in the vineyard. “Is this about Sierra? And the people who died?”

“Stop it,” he whispered. He stepped closer, tracing his finger along her jawline. “I could live without you, but not if it was because something happened to you on my account.”

“Nothing is going to happen. . .” Grace trailed off. There was something, probably many things, she didn’t know about him. Something he was hiding.

Dar leaned down, taking her face in his hands, and kissed her. She closed her eyes, putting her hands on his waist. What if this was their last kiss? She held onto him as though he may fall through her fingers like water. His fingers wove into her hair, sending chills down her spine.

He pulled away first and set his forehead on hers again.

“Dar,” she whispered.

He stepped away, and his shirt slipped from her fingers. He turned and walked to his horse. She leaned against the nearby stable door, holding back tears. After he mounted, he said in her direction, “Goodbye, my lady.”

Grace let her tears fall once he was out of sight. She tried to tell herself this was best, even though she wanted to run after him. She dropped onto the ground, finally let her tears fall.

***

Purchase for $3.99:
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SHIFTING LIGHT
The Protectors are merely rumors and distant whispers for Sashe until a new boy moves to her hometown. Seth’s parents were killed by the Protectors, and he personally killed four of them. As pregnant women start dying, Sashe realizes just how far reaching the Protectors’ hatred is. When the Protectors come to their home to take Sashe and her sister away from the shape changers, Sashe must choose whether she’ll stay with the only family she’s ever known even with their dangerous future.
A Protectors novella, approximately 21,000 words

FIRE AND LIGHT
Sierra has always considered Evan like a brother, but suddenly she sees him as more. When he confesses his feelings for her, she shies away. In the midst of her confusing feelings for Evan, the Protectors try to convince Sierra she’d be better off with them. Sierra thinks she’s brave enough to stay with the shape changers, but is she brave enough to risk her friendship with Evan?
A Protectors novella, approximately 24,800 words

THE END OF LIGHT
An elder of the shape changers tell Sashe and Sierra of a vision that claims they can break the curse set on their family by the Protectors. How? By getting pregnant. Even though a pregnancy hasn’t been carried to full-term for eight years, and many women have died. Sierra, Sashe, and their husbands must decide whether to trust the elders and whether or not to risk their lives for the chance at breaking the curse. And when a spy reveals the vision to the Protectors, the consequences could be catastrophic.
A Protectors novella, approximately 26,200 words

The first will be released mid-February. I can’t decide if I want to release them all at once or within a few weeks of each other, but I’ll keep you guys updated! An omnibus edition will also be available with all three novellas.

I will personally send you a signed paperback. I don’t know if it will be in your mailbox by Christmas Day (I will try my hardest!), but it’s still a great gift for the holidays.

UPDATE: These are no longer pre-orders but they are still signed copies. If you want to order the book straight from Amazon or Createspace for $7.99, here the links:
Amazon
Createspace

Click the picture below to place your order!

Quantity

Qty. 1 + Shipping $9.99 USD Qty. 2 + Shipping $17.99 USD Qty. 3 + Shipping $25.99 USD Qty. 4 + Shipping $33.99 USD

On the off chance that you’d like to buy more than four copies, then feel free to place as many orders as you need to to reach your desired quantity. For example, if you want to buy 5 copies, place an order for 4 copies, then another for 1 copy.

The details about the book:
The victim of a brutal attack, Fiona remembers little about her life until she meets someone who claims to be from her past. He tells her that her parents were killed for a human replication machine. He’s shocked to discover she’s still alive since her body was found in the wreckage of the fire.

She soon travels to her old home in New York to figure out what happened to her and her family. She needs to find out who she is, but more importantly, confront the men who killed her parents.

This coming-of-age scifi novella is full of mystery, action, and romance. It’s a perfect weekend read.

5″ x 8″ (12.7 x 20.32 cm)
Black & White on Cream paper
176 pages
ISBN-13: 978-1468051193
ISBN-10: 1468051199
BISAC: Juvenile Fiction / Science Fiction, Fantasy, Magic

Finding Fiona is also available as an ebook for $1.49 on Amazon, Barnes and Noble, Smashwords, and various other retailers.

If all goes according to plan (must allow time for beta readers, editing, proofreading, etc.), Promising Light will be released early January, and the prequel will follow in February.

Chapter One

She needed to find her parents. She tried to picture them in her mind, tried to recall their names, but there was a gap where they should have been. Instead, a crushing weight pressed down on her chest. She pushed aside her panic. It didn’t matter; she’d find them. It was just the shock.

An unfamiliar woman walked into the hospital room. She had wrinkles at the corners of her mouth, and her eyes widened. “You’re awake!”

She swayed, her legs nearly giving out, and the woman rushed forward to catch her arm. The woman eased her back onto the bed. “Don’t worry, it’s all right.”

The girl put her head in her hands. “I need to go.” But she didn’t remember why. Something important pressed the back of her mind, but when she reached for it, it faded.

“What’s your name?” the woman asked softly.

The girl’s eyes stung with tears, and she took a steady breath, trying to hold them back. “I don’t know.”

* * *

Four months later…

The windows next to them took up nearly the whole wall, showing the harbor. The seagulls were just black specks in the blue sky. The water ebbed back and forth, splashing against the rocks. Fiona could see the spot where Hannah had found her four months ago. She only faintly remembered being there; she’d been floating in and out of consciousness at that point.

They’d walked along the spot with the reporter an hour ago. Fiona had hoped for some revelation, but nothing new had surfaced in her mind. The only clear memory she had of that day was driving in Hannah’s car on the way to the hospital, mumbling the name James over and over again.

She turned to Hannah and Troy, who sat across from her at the table. They sat in a restaurant with a maritime theme: a model ship dominated one wall, and comics of Popeye the Sailorman lay between the tables and the glass over them.

“This is one of my favorite places in Mystic,” Hannah said. “You know the coffee shop area used to be a dance club? It was the coolest place in town on the weekends.”

Fiona grinned. “Did you come here with your leg warmers and Ray Bans?”

Hannah laughed. “Oh, yeah. You’ve seen the pictures. I was the next Madonna.”

Fiona exchanged amused glances with Troy. “But then you became a real estate agent,” she said. She tried to imagine Hannah singing Like a Virgin. She couldn’t. Hannah was too sensible, too normal.

“The world wasn’t ready for me.” Hannah flipped her hair off her shoulder.

“Wait, I need to see those pictures,” Troy said, bumping his shoulder against Hannah’s.

“No!” Hannah shook her head. “Too much teasing material.”

“You’ll show Fiona and not me?” Troy put his hand over his heart. “That hurts, Hannah.”

“Just goes to show she likes me more,” Fiona said with a shrug. If only that were true. She had asked Hannah not to bring Troy today, but she’d insisted that he would be fun. Right. Hearing him complain the whole trip about the follow-up article with the Boston Herald was really fun. She couldn’t believe he’d actually tried to talk her out of it in front of the reporter.

Troy looked like he might respond, but Hannah cut him off, perhaps to avoid an argument. “Do you two know what you want?” she asked.

Fiona picked up her menu. “You’re the expert. What should I get?”

“Their seafood pasta is amazing. I really like their soups, too.”

The waitress came over with their drinks. She was an older woman with corkscrew curls dyed red. “Are you ready to order?”

“Not yet,” Troy said, his gaze on the menu.

“Okay, I’ll be back in a couple minutes.”

“Thank you so much, Lisa,” Hannah said, smiling.

“You know her?” Troy asked.

“I saw her name on her name tag.”

Troy smirked, shaking his head. “You’re too funny.”

Fiona studied him for a moment, trying to determine if the comment was meant to be condescending or flattering. She generally couldn’t tell with Troy.

She looked down at her menu, but didn’t want to consider all the options. Seafood pasta it was. She trusted Hannah’s judgment in food. She trusted Hannah more than anyone, really. That wasn’t saying much, considering she didn’t know many people, but even if Fiona knew hundreds, she was sure Hannah would be one of the nicest people she met. She’d taken care of Fiona, let her live with her in Boston for the last three months, supported her search for her past, and had even given her something like a normal life.

The waitress retuned a few minutes later. Troy ordered first, then Hannah. “And for your daughter?” she said, turning to Fiona.

Fiona smiled tightly. “We’re not related.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” ‘Lisa’ said. “You really look like you could be!”

“It happens all the time,” Troy said, waving a hand. “Don’t worry about it. Fiona, you wanted the seafood pasta, right?”

“Right.” Fiona pursed her lips. She didn’t mind being mistaken for Hannah’s daughter, since Hannah was the closest thing she had to a mother. Thinking of Troy as her dad made her cringe, though. He couldn’t even let her order her own food.

Once the waitress left, Hannah leaned forward and squeezed Fiona’s hand. “I’m glad we came today. Maybe someone will see that article.”

“Hopefully the right people,” Troy muttered. “You know, we could still call her and ask her not to run it.”

“It’s running,” Fiona said firmly. “Maybe a family member or a friend will see it.”

“Yeah, or someone else,” Troy said.

“This conversation sounds really familiar.”

Hannah changed the subject, and Fiona tuned them out, gazing out at the harbor. She understood where Troy’s reservations came from. She had been stabbed, and she faintly remembered being pulled into a van, so she could have even been kidnapped. She had weighed the benefits with the risks, though. If her family saw the article, it might be worth the chance of someone else seeing it. Besides, an article had run four months ago, and no one had come looking for her then.

She tried not to dwell on the fact that no one might come looking for her this time, either. She had to hold onto some kind of hope.

They ate their lunch, chatting aimlessly. Hannah redirected the conversation every time Fiona or Troy mentioned the reporter, probably to avoid an argument. Fiona was fine with that. Troy didn’t seem to understand it was her choice, not his.

Hannah had a real estate meeting at one o’clock, and Troy wanted to visit a few shops in town. Fiona told them she’d walk to the library around the block.

“Shouldn’t you stick with us?” Troy asked.

Fiona made a face. Since Hannah had a meeting, that left Fiona with Troy. “I’m okay. I’ll just hang out at the library.”

“I don’t know,” Troy said, shaking his head.

“You don’t know what? Just go do your thing.”

He looked at Hannah. “You couldn’t take her to your meeting?”

Fiona huffed. “Troy, I’m old enough to go to the library by myself for a couple hours.”

“She’ll be fine, honey,” Hannah said.

Troy’s jaw tightened. “Fine. But you have your phone, right?”

“Yeah, of course,” Fiona said.

Hannah stood, looking at her watch. “My meeting should be over in an hour and a half. You want a ride, Troy?”

“Sure.” Troy got to his feet, leaving some money on the table. “Keep your phone close by, Fiona.”

Fiona gave him a thumbs up and waved as they parted ways in the parking lot. She sighed with relief when they were gone. She walked to the library and went to the computer lab. She’d planned on doing some research, but the technician told her the lab didn’t open until one. Fiona didn’t understand why they didn’t open the computers with the rest of the library.

While she waited, she perused the periodicals. She dug through the old newspapers and found they didn’t keep newspapers for longer than two weeks. At Hannah’s house in Boston, she had the local newspaper from Mystic that had the article about her: the injured girl with only fuzzy memories of her childhood, waiting for someone to claim her.

Fiona walked through the aisles of the periodicals, running her fingers over the magazines and academic journals. She loved the smell of a library: the old, dusty books, the ink and paper.

Her gaze stopped on a journal called American Physics. The title sounded familiar. A social worker had suggested she take the SATs a couple months ago to see where she was academically. The science section of the test had been, without a doubt, the easiest section for her. She even had faint memories of learning those things, of working in a lab, of running experiments. She could explain certain concepts to Hannah.

She picked up the journal and flipped through it. She grabbed the last four issues before finding a seat. Some of the articles went straight over her head; some fascinated her. Her thriller novel hadn’t been able to keep her attention, but this could. Her mind made no sense sometimes.

On the last page was a short article. The black and white photos caught Fiona’s eyes first, and she gasped. A man and a woman, smiling in individual pictures. She knew them. She’d seen them in faint memories: the man’s deep set eyes and dark hair; the woman’s warm smile and bright eyes. Fiona had tried to describe their faces when she had access to facial composition software, but the faces never came out right. Yet here they were. Her parents. Real.

She sought out the name of the authors: Richard and Fiona Normans.

That was why the name Fiona had stuck out to her–it was her mother’s name.

The headline read, Human Replication–Is It Possible?

The article was only a page long and prefaced a longer study to come in the next issue. The two had studied the possibilities of human replication for nearly two decades. They worked primarily out of their lab in New York City while trying to replicate both organic and inorganic objects. On the surface, the theory sounded impossible, but Fiona found herself nodding along to their claims.

She swallowed, looking back at their pictures. She stood up quickly and checked to make sure this was the most recent issue. She looked at her watch. Still half an hour before the computers opened. She’d have to call American Physics. Maybe they could talk to Richard and Fiona for her. Maybe they’d tell them she was alive and well. Maybe she could actually be reunited with them.

Of course, the doubt that her parents were even alive hovered in the back of her mind. She remembered being so panicked when she ran through those flames, sobbing uncontrollably. She wasn’t sure if they’d survived the fire.

She started jogging for the door. She turned the corner of an aisle and ran straight into someone, dropping the journal. “Oh, I’m so…” she trailed off when she saw the guy standing in front of her. He was a few inches taller than her. He had black hair, and he stared at her unabashedly.

Fiona couldn’t believe how familiar he looked: the narrow face, the golden brown eyes. She knew him.

He slowly reached down and picked up the journal. He looked at the title, then stared at her again. She clenched her hands into fists, hardly daring to hope. Could it be? Could he really be someone from her past? Why else would he be staring at her like that?

“Elizabeth?”

Recognition exploded within her. She’d been called that before; she just knew it. Tears stung her eyes, and she blinked them away, embarrassed. “I…”

“Oh, my god. Is it really you?”

“I don’t know.” Fiona’s voice shook. “Who do you think I am?”

He stared at her. “You don’t… you don’t remember me?”

“I recognize you. What’s your name?”

“James.”

* * *

Available for $2.99 at:
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Watch the trailer:

First, I requested one from the lovely Fena Lee. I wanted to see what she came up with, and I assured her that if I used the cover for my ebook, I’d compensate her. She made me this:

Now, I really liked the picture (found here), but to me, this didn’t really say “Science Fiction/Adventure.” It seemed more literary to me. My husband took the picture and made this cover:

But we essentially had the same problem. It didn’t fit with the genre. Some people on Critique Circle forums suggest a superimposed face. They liked the fire image, but it needed more.

I played around with some models (found the stock photo on deviantart):

To a few people, the model seemed too complacent, not like she was a character in a story where her life is in danger. So, I found a new model from a stock photo I downloaded from istockphoto.com. The model looked a bit older, but when combined with the fire, she had the appearance of looking younger.

I really liked this model, but I also loved, loved, loved the book cover for The Venom of Vipers by K.C. May. I wanted the full face on the book cover. Well, I tried a few times to get the face to look good with the fire, but I finally handed it over to my husband and told him what I wanted. He flexed his mad skills with Photoshop, and gave me this gem:

Now, he gave me another book cover that looked almost exactly the same, but I asked him to increase the contrast to make the colors more extreme. I considered having “Fiona” bold instead of “Finding”, but “Finding” won. And now this is the official book cover! The only thing I might change: I may add a caption or a quote from a review along the top.

That’s how the cover for Finding Fiona developed. There were many more drafts, but these are the non-embarrassing ones