WELCOME GUEST AUTHOR
LAURA WELLING
TO THE BLOG!
Passion burns. Betrayal scars.
Cat Wilson grew up a misfit among misfits. She couldn’t read minds, see the future, or start fires like the other Talented kids inside the shadowy Grey Institute. Finally she ran, leaving her beloved brother, Eric, behind. She’s been running ever since.
When she learns that Eric has escaped, leaving deadly fires in his wake, Cat is torn between fear for her brother, and unwanted attraction to the messenger, a charming, Talented ex-con who lives for the next adrenaline rush.
Jamie Murphy is sure his group of outcast Talents can help Eric—if they can get to him before the cops or the Institute, and before he kills again. Cat’s aversion to Talented bad boys is like a wall of ice, but to his surprise, he doesn’t have to use an ounce of his own unique gift to find a way through it.
Yet locating Eric is only the beginning. In the battle to pull him back from the brink, Cat must find the courage to unlock a fearsome Talent of her own. And pray the psychic backdraft doesn’t destroy everyone she loves.
Author Bio:
When’s
she’s not writing, Laura Welling wears a lot of other hats: mother, farmer, and
software engineer. She's Australian but lives in the United States on a horse
farm, which she shares with her family, an over-sized dog, and various horses,
cats and chickens. She is a compulsive reader of all genre fiction, who started
reading before the age of two, and never stopped. She wrote her first “book”
when she was five—a spy story, which has since been joined in a bottom drawer
by various other early attempts.
This
book was inspired by some of her favorite stories: Anne McCaffrey’s science
fiction novels, Marvel’s X-Men comics, and The
X-Files television series.
Author Links:
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EXCERPT
The place held echoes of a thousand
other bars, although the fire had painted everything black. The cheap tables
looked worse for wear, lopsidedly melted. The bar still stood, and was toward
the back of the venue, with a line of bar stools in front of it.
“Do you know much about fires?”
Jamie asked.
“Nothing technical.”
“Look, here,” he said gesturing at
the remnants of what had been bar stools. “See how these have melted, but this
one at the end is intact?” I looked where he pointed. A fan of burn marks
spread out from the untouched stool.
“I guess Eric must have been
sitting there.” I rubbed at my arms, which were covered in goose bumps.
Thinking about what had happened here made my stomach twist. God, I hoped I
wouldn’t vomit. People had died here, right where I stood. I cringed inwardly.
“You think he burned them where they sat drinking?”
“That adds up with what we heard in
the initial reports. One minute it’s a normal night out, and then everybody—and
everything—is on fire.” He paused, looking around, but his expression was
neutral. “I wonder what happened then. I guess Eric took off.”
I tried to imagine what could have
caused my brother to start the fire. Had someone attacked him? Was it some kind
of freak accident? “If you’d started this fire, what would you do next?”
Jamie looked directly at me. “I’d
run like hell and hope the cops never found me. Do you see anything else?”
“A lot of mess and water and
charcoal.” I closed my eyes. I couldn’t close out the smells, or the images of
horror filling my mind. I could never un-see this.
“I mean, do you see anything?”
I fought the urge to punch him. “I
never see anything. I’ve told you
before.”
“Sorry,” Jamie said. “I know this
must be harrowing for you.”
His hand landed on my bare arm, hot
against my skin, and I plunged into a waking dream.
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