The Corpse Goddess
By Kristi Jones
Genre:Urban Fantasy
Publisher: Evernight Publishing
ASIN:B008EZXJ7E
Number of pages: 274
Word Count: 79,034
Blurb/Book Description:
Party girl Meg Highbury wakes up the morning of her twenty-first birthday with one hell of a hangover – and a walking corpse
in her apartment. Meg turns to her straight-laced neighbor Armando for
help and together they discover that Meg is a Valkyrie.
What’s more, her first duty is to trade places with the corpse. But
Meg is being sent to her Death Duty too soon. In a race against time,
Meg frantically tries to find a loophole to her gruesome fate, but while
Meg is determined to live whatever the cost, Armando's strict moral
principles keep getting in the way of her plans for escape.
Can
Meg walk the 'right' and narrow path, possibly sacrificing her mortal
life, for love? And if she can, will Armando have the stomach to love a
rotting corpse of a girl who is falling apart in more ways than one?
A Little Light Reading
EXCERPT #1
Tee picked up on the
third call. “Wha’ is it?” Tee mumbled, obviously still half asleep.
“Tee. What. The. Hell?”
“Whosis?”
“It’s me, Meg. What
the hell was in those drinks last night?”
“Drinks?” Tee
coughed. Meg heard the flick of a lighter, the gentle grind of flint against
steel, and waited for Tee to suck down her first drag of the day. “What’re you
talking about?”
“The wine,” Meg
said, her voice a screeching tire. She kept her eyes on the zombie. She stared
at it for two reasons. One, to be ready in case it made any sudden moves. And
two, hoping that it would suddenly vanish, and she would be free to get off
this freak show carnival ride. “The Merlot we had last night. In the
graveyard.”
“Oh,
yeah. That. Why? What’s up? You want some more?”
“No,” Meg said,
biting back a scream. “I do not want some more. I want to know why there is a
freaking zombie standing in my apartment.”
“What happened to
you last night? Danny was asking for you.”
“Tee, listen. Focus.
I need to know. Did you put something special in the wine? A little birthday
boost?”
Tee laughed. “Shit,
Meg. Did you sleep with Danny?”
“What?”
“He is a lousy lay.
No doubt. Thinks he’s in love with you, right?” She laughed again. “Kick his
ass out, girl. He’s got no business staying over if you want your privacy.”
“I don’t want my
goddamn privacy, Tee! I have a zombie in my apartment!” Meg screamed. The
zombie jumped at the sound of her scream, as if a bolt of electricity had
suddenly brought the thing to life.
“Stay back!” Meg
said in a pleading tone of voice. Her heartbeat went into overdrive, and it set
her teeth chattering painfully together.
“Whoa,”
Tee said, obviously
[w1] offended.
“Don’t get all commando on me. Not my fault you fucked up and shagged a loser.”
The
zombie jerked its right leg forward. Then the left.
“Oh, shit,” Meg
whispered, tears rolling down her cheeks now. “Shit, it’s coming.”
“Meg, you really
need to get a grip. Just say no, girl. Just because it’s coming, doesn’t mean
you have to take it.”
“I don’t think I
have any control over that, Tee,” Meg said, explosions of fear wracking her
body.
“You want my advice?
Sleep it off, Meg. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
“Tee, wait…”
Meg heard a click
and then the dreaded dial tone. Her best friend, her only real friend, had
disconnected the call.
The zombie jerked
toward her, snapping and creaking with every step. Meg crab-walked backwards,
scuttling off her bed and landed on the floor with a painful thud.
Her mind racing,
playing catch-up with what her eyes were seeing, Meg tried to come up with a
plan. She could shove the thing, hard enough to make it fall, maybe into a
hundred pieces like one of those plastic toy snap skeletons her parents liked
to give on birthdays. The next part of the plan was easy. Run. Run away as fast
as her feet would carry her.
Her studio apartment
was just under five hundred square feet. The front door was not more than a few
paces away.
But what if the
thing moved faster than she expected, like a lazy alligator suddenly darting
for the kill?
She still had her
phone in her hand, but whom could she call? Meg didn’t have many close friends,
and you couldn’t call a casual acquaintance to help with a walking corpse, real
or imagined.
The zombie walked
around the bed, coming for her. The smell emanating from the thing was turning
the wine in her stomach to vinegar, but Meg swallowed back the nausea. She
threw back the comforter and clambered off the bed, keeping her eyes on the
zombie. Pieces of rotting gray cloth and leaves fell to the floor.
It was coming
closer, no more than three feet away now.
Meg’s heart ran a
thumping rhythm inside her chest, and she broke out into a cold sweat that left
her shivering on uncertain legs.
“Stay back,” she
said, but the thing stepped closer, its bare knee bones peeking through the
shredded trousers.
Panicked, Meg lunged
forward, legs scrambling, stomach lurching. She thrust out her hands, making
contact with the zombie.
The impact, when it
came, was like a jacked-up haunted house gimmick. She felt her fingers plunge
through the fabric of the thing's tattered white shirt as her hands sank into
its rotting chest. The
flesh beneath its shell of leathery skin was surprisingly gooey. Her hands sank
into the gelatinous mess, and she had a fleeting thought that this was
how people went crazy. She could feel her mind slipping away from the shocking
reality of her predicament and into a deep, dark hole somewhere in the depths
of her mind.
And then the rancid
flesh embraced her, pulled her in. An intense burning triggered her hands to
start shaking, and the sensation traveled up her arms. She screamed and tried
to pull her hands away, but they stuck, super-glued to the monster. A bolt of blue
ran across the zombie's chest. Meg screamed again, howling like a wounded
animal, desperately trying to free herself from a nightmare she didn't quite
believe in.
EXCERPT #2
“You don't know her,
Armando.” A sticky, slimy substance filled Meg’s mouth. She swallowed, put a
hand to her chest, willing herself not to throw up. She made her own skin
crawl, thinking about what was going on inside her body. It took a minute, but
the taste in her mouth dissipated. She went on. “She's the only person who
could have sent the book. There isn't anyone else in my life, don't you get
that? She wanted me to read it and call up this, this, thing. And I hate
her for it.”
And the dam broke.
She couldn’t fight the tears. Her shoulders heaved, and she sank back down onto
the bed, surrendering to the tears and the anguish and the pain. She sobbed in
great wracking jerks and heaves. A small inner voice muttered, “get it under
control, girl, you're making a fool of yourself”, but the emotions were too
strong.
Armando sat beside
her, his hand on her back. Meg focused on the weight of his hand, the warmth
and the life of it. She closed her eyes and focused all her senses on that
hand. She pictured it in her mind. She wondered if he tasted like salt. She
held onto the image of Armando's hand, flushed with blood and warm in the sun,
until all thoughts of rot and death receded.
“It’s okay, Meg.
It’ll be okay,” Armando said. He removed his hand, but remained seated beside
her.
“It isn’t fair, you
know,” Meg said, keeping her eyes closed. “I haven’t done anything. I’ve wasted
so much time, partying and stuff. Funny thing is, I used to look at you and
think you were wasting your life.”
“Yeah, I kinda knew
that.”
“I should have been
studying and learning. Maybe if I’d been studying, been focused on school, I
never would have gone to the cemetery.”
“I don’t know about
that. It was your twenty-first birthday. I didn’t spend my twenty-first
birthday studying.”
It was Meg’s turn to
arch an eyebrow. “You didn’t?”
“Of course not. Contrary to what you might think, Meg, I do
have a social life. It just doesn’t involve drugs and gallons of alcohol.”
Meg bristled at
this, but decided to let it pass. He was right, she supposed, but it didn’t
make it any less embarrassing.
“Anyway, curiosity
isn’t something you can cure with schoolwork.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, it isn’t
necessarily a bad thing that you like to push the envelope.”
“Maybe,” Meg said.
She wasn’t sure what Armando was trying to say, but she knew he was trying to
make her feel better about calling up her own death buddy.
“Besides, you’ve had
lots of experiences. I’m pretty sure you’ve done tons of things I haven’t done.”
“That’s the kicker,
Armando,” Meg said, turning to face him. “I haven’t. I haven’t done anything
but drink and laugh at stupid jokes. I’ve gotten drunk and high and puked in my
kitchen sink, but that’s not exactly a bucket list. I’ve never loved anybody.
I’ve never gone sky diving or driven a race car. Christ, the worst part is, I’m
not even good at being a party girl. I haven’t jumped off the Brooklyn Bridge
or gone bungee jumping.”
“We don’t live anywhere near the Brooklyn
Bridge.”
“That’s not the point.
I’m just saying I haven’t lived yet.” Meg pointed at the corpse in the room.
“I’m about to turn into moldy cheese, and I haven’t lived yet. A Valkyrie,
whatever the fuck that is, is supposed to get one lifetime right? Well, doesn’t
a lifetime include certain things? Marriage, kids, adventures.”
“You want kids?”
“I don't know.
Probably not. But I'd like the chance to decide.”
“Right. Makes
sense.”
He was looking
uncomfortable with Meg’s talk of kids and marriage. Armando, who appeared
completely at ease with bodily fluids, farts and personal belief systems, was
acting like the typical commitment-phobe.
“Don’t worry,
Armando. I’m not asking you to marry me or have kids with me. I’m just saying,
I think I deserve all that, you know?”
Armando nodded, but
his eyes were unfocused. He was thinking of something else.
Meg shifted away.
Her stomach was roiling again, and she was afraid she might fart. The stench of
Cousin Ed clearly still bothered him, and suddenly she didn’t want to disgust
Armando. She realized with a sort of dawning wonder that she wanted him to like
her.
She could feel the
heat of his leg against hers, but she kept her eyes on the floor. Her shoes
were off, and she noticed that her toenails were turning blue. Fighting off
another eruption of the despicable tears, she thought about asking him to get
her a drink or something – anything to lessen the tension between them – when
the bedroom door clicked open. Meg and Armando broke apart like startled
lovers.
EXCERPT #3
They got out of the
car and trudged across the grass, stepping over gravestones and one mound of
freshly turned earth. Meg headed toward the tree, then decided to keep going.
The back edge of Green Haven ended in another cornfield, one neat line of mown grass
abutting against the ordered row of cornstalks.
The place was
deserted, as usual, but cars passed by on the road running from the university.
They were taking a risk doing the ceremony before dark, but time was running
short. And Meg wanted to get the show on the road.
“I need to use the
bathroom before we start,” Meg said.
“Why didn’t you go
at the gas station?” Emma asked, lips pursed.
Meg didn’t
understand why Emma was acting so put out. “Because it’s still light out, Emma.
The last thing we need is to get caught with a zombie in broad daylight.”
“Emma, why don’t you help her and I’ll go get
the replacement.”
“I’ll just use the
field,” Meg muttered, trying to ignore the shiver that ran through her body
when Tee called Danny “the replacement”.
Emma followed as Meg
stumbled over the gravestones and into the cornstalks.
“I’ll be okay here, Emma.”
“Do you need me to
hold you or something?”
“No, I think I can
manage. I’m not that bad off yet.”
“Sorry.”
“It’s okay. I’ll
meet you at the tree.”
“But, what if you
need help?”
“I’ll call, okay?
Really, I’m fine.” Meg heard the impatience in her voice, but dammit, she
wasn’t an invalid yet. This might be her last real pee, and like a frustrated
toddler, she wanted to do it herself.
“All right, I’ll be
right by the tree, so call if you need a hand.”
“Go, go.”
Meg knew she
wouldn’t be able to squat. Her legs were already shaking and unsteady. She
pulled a few leaves from the stalks, laid them in a pile then pulled down her
pants and underwear.
She sat down, spread
her legs and tried to heave herself up with her arms long enough to pee into
the leaves, hoping it would funnel away from her body. It worked, sort of. She
used a wad of napkins she’d stuffed into her pocket for toilet paper and dried
her legs. Unfortunately there was no way to avoid seeing the blood. The blood
that meant she was dying. Her heart tripped, a scared, rabbit-punch beat. This
is what it’s like to die, she thought. This is what it’s like to
be eighty and wasting away in a nursing home ... only at warp speed.
When
she finished and got to a standing position, her face was covered in tears.
Tears of fear and pain and anger. Anger at herself for reading that book, and
for dragging Armando into something that had cost him so much. She realized
that even if she did manage to use a replacement and delay her duties as a
Valkyrie, she would never be able to give Armando back what he'd lost. How she
would live with that, she couldn't imagine, but she had no strength to fight
against the rushing stream funneling her toward some unknowable future. She
Emma had emerged as a pillar of cold-hearted strength in a surprising
determination to help Meg escape the Death Duty. Only Tee seemed unchanged by
the day’s events. She was simply helping a friend. Going along, the way she
always did. Ready to be entertained, ready to have fun despite it all.
“Meg? Are you okay?’
Meg wiped the tears
away and sniffed back her feelings. “Yeah, yeah, I’m coming.”
She emerged from the
cornstalks, her mouth set in grim determination. “All right, let’s get this
show on the road. I’m ready to be human again.”
[w1]I
added this because Meg cannot know
that Tee is offended. She can only infer.
Author, Author!
Author Bio:
Kristi
Jones spent her childhood exploring European castles, crumbling manor
houses and ornate cathedrals, always looking for secret passages and
hidden rooms. She holds a degree in European history and loves to throw
‘ordinary’ characters into extraordinary circumstances.
She
currently lives in south Texas with her husband and two children, who
inspire her daily. She is a member of the Writers’ League of Texas and
Romance Writers of America. She loves old movies, being a Mom, the feel
of paper in her hands and things that go bump in the night.
Where to find Kristi:
Get The Book:
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This book sounds amazing. I love the review and excerpt!
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