Excerpt: The Rockin' Chair

Earlier this year I read Steven Manchester's novel Twelve Months. It was a nice read (full review is here) so when he asked me to feature his new novel, The Rockin' Chair, I agreed to share an excerpt on the blog. The book is released today so if you like what you read you can now purchase the novel. Enjoy!

It was a bitterly cold Saturday morning when friends from far and wide came to pay their respects. Everyone who knew Alice adored her and equally loved her grieving husband. The McCarthy’s tiny field of granite was filled with mourners. As the preacher spoke, an eerie silence filled the frozen air.

“The Lord blessed each of our lives with the gift of knowing and loving Alice. Now He has taken her home to be with Him. Those who remember her, who loved her, walk with heavy hearts today, but we must also remember that Alice has been freed from the heavy chains of this world. She now walks with the Lord and shall dwell peacefully within His house for all eternity. Until the day we meet again...”

The preacher’s kind words were carried on the icy wind and John listened carefully to each one. Amidst them, a thousand memories reminded him of why he felt such loss. A thousand more reminded him of the void that now filled the desolate chambers of his heart. He stood rigid, conscious not to sway, and nearly snickered when the pastor mentioned “forgiveness.”

While John fought back the tears that burned to be free, the preacher’s drone drifted and became distant. John tried comforting himself with his own thoughts, but the ache in his heart was worse than anything he’d ever imagined. I’m nothin’ without Alice by my side, he thought, and the pain made him want to join her.

The preacher continued to talk above the sniffles. John glanced down at the scarred earth where friends had dug the hole. Beside his parents, Alice’s pine casket was about to be committed. A roll of old burlap covered the hole, while a mound of dirt mixed with snow sat behind them. Interrupting his own prayer, John questioned the Lord. Why ain’t there another hole dug beside her, Father? It don’t make no sense. It ain’t natural for Alice to be layin’ here alone.

John understood the cycles of life and had always been as comfortable with death as he was with life, but putting Alice in the ground alone was a tough one. I got no purpose walkin’ this earth without my wife matchin’ every step. God, how I wish I was layin’ right there beside her in our eternal bed. He became entranced in the fantasy.

Shoulder-to-shoulder, Hank, Elle, Evan and Tara stood across the casket from the old man. In his most difficult hour, Grampa John needed to stand alone and they respected him for it.

Elle rubbed Hank’s back, comforting her husband and ignoring her own pain. She loved Alice too. In fact, for years she loved her like her own mother. Then, when the illness took hold and caused the kind woman to live more in the past than the present, Elle loved her like one of her own children. Either way, the depth of the love never changed. At the end, though—just before Alice passed on—Elle prayed for closure. Realizing the harshness of such hopes, she wanted an end to everyone’s suffering once and for all. It had nothing to do with loving her mother-in-law any less. It had to do with peace. Mercifully, the Lord finally answered her prayers.

Denying herself the permission to mourn just yet, she continued to rub Hank’s back and whisper things in his ear that only he could hear. There will be time for me to cry later, she decided.

Hank stared at the beautifully carved casket and played the same reel of his mother over and over in his mind. He remembered watching her slave away for years in the house. She washed clothes by hand, hung them out and warned Hank, “You best stay clear.” Most of the time, he minded her. She canned vegetables, never stopped cooking and was usually busy working on one of her quilts. She was non-stop. Her routine was no easier than Pa’s, only she was being monitored by the ghosts that watched from frames on the parlor walls.

She was also in charge of haircuts and what a treat they were. If Hank didn’t squirm and fuss, she’d rinse out the bowl when she was through hacking him up and fill it with a few scoops of cherry Jell-O. Hank loved rubbing the new fuzz at the back of his head, as he sucked the sweet slime through his teeth.

Ma was also the self-appointed boss of hygiene. Every Saturday for sure and sometimes once during the week—depending on how much dirt had accumulated—she’d draw him a bath. Hank loved that old porcelain tub. It was like climbing into a swimming pool, with lion’s claws holding up its weight. Ma would leave him be for awhile, then call out, “Cover up your privates. I’m comin’ in.” With strong hands, she’d wash his hair, all the while complaining, “I swear there’s more water on the floor than in the tub!”

He could still see her sneaking dinner up to his room when he was punished, never thinking any less of him for misbehaving; and the wedding ring—from her own finger—that she gave Elle at the breakfast table the morning after he and Elle had eloped. He would never forget the way she always found time to talk, or better yet—to listen; and the ways in which she showered his children with love. The list went on and so did the invisible projector in his head.

Hank struggled to stop it, but the movie kept playing and the emotions he fought to contain finally overwhelmed him. As Elle rubbed his back, telling him, “It’s okay, hon, let it out,” the dam burst wide open. Hank’s whimpers could be heard above them all. Although he was bawling like a child, his embarrassment was suddenly replaced by another truth. This was not a physical pain that he felt. It was his heart and it was breaking. It didn’t matter that he was weeping in front of people. It don’t matter what anyone thinks, he thought. There was great freedom in it.

Hank looked across the casket and noticed his father standing strong. “Pa’s mask is still set in place,” he mumbled under his breath. As Elle leaned in to hear what her husband was trying to say, he added, “I ain’t ever been no match for him but it don’t matter no more.” For the first time, Hank felt sorry for his father.

Evan listened to his father’s labored sighs and childlike sobs. Like a contagious disease passed on by the wind, to his surprise he could feel the man’s pain. With all the resentment he held toward his father, his heart still bled for him. Looking to his side, it amazed him how pain could be such a cohesive bond in bringing people closer together. The bottom line was—they were family. Beyond their differences and hard feelings, they shared a common love and the pain that came from losing it. He’d always thought of his father as being lazy—in a fearful sort of way. Now, he just felt bad for him. Evan realized that his love for his father was stronger than his own pride. He placed his hand upon his pa’s trembling shoulder. Allowing his own tears loose, his mind suddenly flashed Carley’s smiling face. His body shuddered at the unexpected picture, and he realized that the woman he thought was his soul mate had already become nothing more than a bad memory.

Tara huddled against her brother. As the pastor spoke, her thoughts jumped from Lila to Bryce to the possible reasons Georgey didn’t make it to the funeral. Her mind was everywhere and she felt a wave of anxiety wash over her. Her life was in complete shambles, but looking around she discovered that Evan had been right. She wasn’t alone. There was pain etched into every face. All I want is a drink, she thought. Her body craved it terribly. She looked across the casket and noticed Grampa John’s mouth moving. He’s whispering something to Grandma, she realized. That was it. She lost it.

Trapped in his own bitterness, anger and sorrow, John stared at his wife’s coffin. Suddenly, Alice’s bony finger nudged him hard in the back, causing goose bumps to cover his body. It’s her touch, he knew. I’d never miss it. The strong smell of lilac wafted in the air. She’s tryin’ to tell me somethin’.

As if he’d been blinded for days, his eyes reached across the casket and rested upon his family. He gasped at the sight of them. Quickly studying each face, for the first time he could see the pain—and it wasn’t only from grieving the loss of Alice. The entire family was broken. He could feel it as plain as Alice’s message on his back. They were all slumped over from the weight of the cross they each carried. How could I have been so blind? he thought, kicking himself for missing it. If there had been a second hole, he would have endured his own grief and buried their pain instead. His concern had already shifted.

John continued to study their eyes. It was clear. The very fabric of their lives had become stained and tattered. The look on the two young ones only confirmed John’s beliefs of the world beyond the mountains. Like a cruel dream grinder, it’s chewed ‘em up and spit ‘em out.

Their parents weren’t in any better shape. Hank could barely stand, while Elle neglected her own needs—as usual—and tended to him. John felt Hank’s pain and cringed over the doubts of being able to heal the one who needed it most. He shook his head. The quilt that Alice spent so many years on is unravelin’ at the seams, he thought. No wonder she kept pokin’ me until I opened my eyes. While my squaw struggled so hard to remember her own life, her family was all fightin’ to forget their own. He felt one more nudge in the back and grinned. “I know, Alice. I know,” he said aloud. Others glanced nervously at the outburst. John’s grin scared them more.

The preacher had just finished his sermon when John dropped to both knees and spoke to his wife. “I see now, squaw. Seems I still got some chores that need tendin’ to.” He placed his lips to the frozen casket and kissed her. “You’re right, as usual. There’s some mendin’ to be done. So leave the porch light on for me and I’ll be along when I’m through.” Standing slowly, he straightened out his back and steeled himself for the chores ahead of him. I still got a few more miles to go, he decided. And it looks like I’ll be travelin’ all the way to hell to reclaim these kids. It was time to take them back from the evils of society.

Guest Post: Heather Thurmeier

I am so happy to have author Heather Thurmeier on the blog today with a fabulous guest post. I reviewed her novel Stuck on You the other day, the review is here if you missed it, and I absolutely loved it. As I mentioned in my review, I enjoyed that it played on the popular reality TV show The Amazing Race. The first novel in this series, Falling for You, did a similar thing with the show The Bachelor. While I don't watch The Amazing Race, I really like the idea of it and thought it was fabulous that Heather had her fictional TV show feature geocaching. Don't know what that means? Don't worry - Heather explains in her post! Enjoy!

Geo-What-Now??

Geocaching (pronounced geo-cash-ing) is a giant, worldwide treasure hunt. Using a handheld GPS unit—or cell phone with app—you look for caches based on their longitude and latitude coordinates. The cache you’re looking for might be as tiny as an acorn (called a nano-cache) or as big as a 5-gallon pail. Inside each cache will be a logbook where you can record that you’ve been there and the date of your find. The larger caches often have other things inside them as well like toys for the kids to take, trackable items you can take and leave at another cache, and any number of other things. It’s great fun and very satisfying when you follow that little GPS arrow all the way to the cache and find it! And it’s always a surprise about what you’ll find inside. My kids love going ‘treasure hunting!’

In my novel, Stuck on You, the characters go on a reality TV show inspired by The Amazing Race. But I wanted to make it different in a few ways. So I kept my contestants local to the New York Hudson Valley area and I made them have to geocache to find prizes and accumulate points to eventually win the ultimate grand prize at the end of the show.  I had so much fun thinking of different places and ways I could hide these caches to make my contestants work to find them. And let me just say, they got into some pretty interesting—ahem—and steamy situations while searching for caches.

For the next quarter mile, they walked in silence following the arrow of the GPS. A few more minutes and they should reach the cache. Paige leaned in closer to the unit, watching the distance on the screen decreasing. Ten more feet.
The ground fell away beneath her and she was suddenly on her back, sliding down a very bumpy surface. After a short slide, she came to a stop, staring up at the canopy of trees.
Ouch.
Footsteps pounded down the slope after her then Miles was down on his knees in the dirt beside her.
Well hello there, Mr. Muscles. Let’s get dirty together.
The image of getting dirty in the forest with Miles was a little more sex kitten than her usual train of thought. Did I hit my head on the way down?
Or maybe it was the influence of the super hot, super built man hovering over her with concern in his eyes that caused the shift in her mental state.
“Are you okay?” Miles asked, touching the side of her face and turning her head first one direction and then the other. Her eyes never left his.
“I’m fine. Just dirty—muddy,” she clarified. Not that he could read her mind, but still. “I’ll get up now.”
“Let me help you,” he said, standing over her and wrapping his large hands around her upper arms, pulling her up to stand in front of him. His hands dropped to her waist and she found hers groping his chest again. Seemed she couldn’t keep her hands off of him. Not that the rest of her complained in the least.
“Thanks,” she whispered, looking up to meet his gaze. The mix of concern and... something else made her breath hitch in her throat. Damn.
“My pleasure.”
Her feet went out from under her again, but this time she didn’t slide down the slope. Possibly because she’d managed to drag Miles down to the ground with her. Perhaps his body weight pressing her into the soft dirt was enough to stop her from going anywhere.
Definitely every inch of his tall, muscular body against hers was enough to cause the lightheadedness she now felt.
Or possibly the lightheadedness could be from his leg pressing against the junction of her thighs. He’d managed to anchor them both to the ground as she straddled his leg. Yes, that could cause lightheadedness to hit full force.
As could the length of something else currently pressing into her.
Either he suddenly had less blood traveling to his brain or he’d managed to shove a tree branch in his pocket on the way down the hill. A very large tree branch.

Geocaching with Miles sounds pretty fun, doesn’t it? Now I can’t guarantee you’ll have the same results as Paige, but geocaching with your friends and family is always a good way to get outside and enjoy nature together!

Author Bio:

Heather Thurmeier is a lover of strawberry margaritas, a hater of spiders, and a reality TV junkie. Her passion is contemporary romance—writing stories filled with laugh out loud moments, uber-hunky heroes, sassy heroines, and always a happily ever after. Author of romantic comedies: Meadow Ridge Romance series, Bunny Hills and Bikinis, and the Reality TV Romance trilogy. You can find out more about Heather's books, news and giveaways by visiting her blog: heatherthurmeier.com 

Excerpt: Twelve Months

A few months ago I was asked by author Steven Manchester to read and review his novel Twelve Months. While I have yet to read the book myself, I've heard good things about it. (Check out the Goodreads page for the synopsis and some reviews). Since I couldn't review the book right away, I agreed to post an excerpt of the novel. I hope it intrigues all of you as much as it did for me!

Though there were empty tables up front, Vic escorted Bella and me to a darkened back room where no one else was seated. The table sat in the center of the room and was very nicely decorated. I could tell by Bella's face that it seemed peculiar to her. As we took our seats, Vic lit a candle. “I’ll be right back,” he said.

Bella started to question it, but I shrugged it off. “There must have been reservations for the other tables up front?” I suggested.

She nodded, and then noticed a man seated on a stool a few tables over. He was holding a guitar and squinting at some sheet music.

He looked over and smiled. “I hope you guys don’t mind, but I’m trying out tonight for a weekend gig at this place.”

“Oh, that’s great,” Bella said, with no idea Gary had already landed the job.

“Not a problem,” I added, acting as though I’d never spoken to the man. And through an acoustic set of love ballads, Gary was just as convincing.

Bella had no idea but the order had already been carefully spelled out – drinks first, Pinot Grigio for her; beer for me, and the itinerary would begin. Vic approached with both drinks on a small round tray. “Appetizers tonight?” he asked.

I smiled. “Why don’t we start with an order of little necks in garlic and oil?”

Vic nodded once and headed for the kitchen, while Gary swooned, “You say it best when you say nothing at all…”

Bella leaned into my ear and whispered, “How did he know I wanted white wine?”

I was into my second shrug when Vic returned to the table with a gorgeous arrangement of long stem red roses. Without a word, he placed them in front of Bella and rotated the vase until the card faced her. “Your appetizer should be out in a few minutes,” he said and strutted away again.

Gary was already on his second number when Bella plucked the card from the arrangement. It read: “Bella, I love you, forever – Don.” She looked up to find the entire restaurant staring at us.

“And always will,” I whispered when she leaned over and kissed me.

After the steaming appetizer and another round of drinks, Vic placed a silver platter before my glowing wife. It held a scrolled sheet of parchment secured by red ribbon. She looked up at him, but he never let on. She glanced over at me. “What…”

“Open it,” I said, while Gary strummed away in the background.

She did. It was the one thing she'd always wanted from me, but had never gotten – until now.

Moments of Destiny

From the moment I met you,

I knew there was a fire between us

that even hard, driving rain could never put out.

From the moment we spoke,

I knew I’d spent my entire life

in search of your deep and passionate love.

From the moment we kissed,

I knew my heart was no longer mine

and I’d finally found my future.

From the moment we laughed,

I knew there would never be enough time

to share all the things I needed to share with you.

From the moment we danced,

I knew, at last, what the phrase ‘better half’ meant

and surrendered to your gentle touch.

From the moment we walked hand-in-hand,

I knew I’d discovered my partner

and that my dreams were suddenly within reach.

From the moment we lay together,

I knew I’d made it to heaven

and thanked God for blessing me with you.

From the moment you agreed to be my wife,

I knew my journey was now worth taking,

through days of sunshine –

or nights of hard, driving rain.

As her watering eyes read the final verse, the musician stopped playing, the restaurant went silent and I went down to one knee. I opened the ring box. “Isabella,” I said, “I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Will you be my wife…again?”

She never hesitated and dove into my arms. For a while, we just hugged.

“I love you so much,” she cried into my shoulder.

“I know,” I said. “But…”

She pushed away from me and looked into my eyes. “But what?”

“But I need your answer?” I said, grinning.

“Yes…the answer is YES!” she gasped and jumped back into my arms.

The crowd shared a collective sigh, and everyone was clapping when Bella and I returned to reality. It took a few moments before each table returned to its own conversation and half-eaten meals.

Chuckling, I introduced my beautiful wife to Gary, the musician. As they shook hands, Gary admitted, “I was so nervous.”

I bought the man a beer when Vic delivered two previously ordered dinners to our table. Though Bella couldn’t touch hers, I ate and listened to Gary fill the room with a soothing melody. By the time the chocolate covered strawberries arrived for dessert, Bella was emotionally spent. She grabbed me once more for a kiss. “This has been the perfect night,” she whispered.

“And for all these years…you’ve been the perfect wife, my dear.”

As we left the restaurant, another round of applause carried us to the front door. I opened it for my new fiancé – only to discover a white stretch limousine idling at the curb. She quickly turned to me. “It’s not over?”

I shook my head. “It’ll never be over for us.” As we made our way to the limo, waves of nausea threatened to drown me. This is Bella’s perfect night, I told myself, our perfect night. Whatever you do…do not throw up now!

Excerpt: Pass the Hot Stuff

Time for the excerpt of Dana Page's novel  Pass the Hot Stuff! This post is part of the tour hosted by CLP Blog Tours! Don't forget to check out the main tour page for all of the other posts! Enjoy this excerpt :)

She found her seat, naturally it was in the middle, and she stopped to try to put her carry-on bag in the overhead compartment.  She stumbled back a little, hitting the man across the aisle in the head with her butt.  “Oh, I’m so sorry.”

     “No problem,” he said.  “I can think of worse ways of getting knocked out.”  Blythe looked startled, and he laughed.  “Here, let me help you.”

     “Thank you,” she said, and looked at him for the first time.  He looked familiar.  He was very good looking and had the darkest, bedroom eyes she had ever seen.  She felt even more flustered now.  “Sorry again…for hitting you.” 

     He smiled in response.  “It was a pleasure,” he teased.

     Blythe’s face turned red; she couldn’t remember the last time she had blushed.  He started to say something else to her but had to get out of the way of the crowd rushing towards their seats like it was general admission.

     Blythe buckled her seatbelt, closed her eyes and tried to go to sleep before takeoff.  She was exhausted.  Just as she was beginning to doze, the flight attendant, trying to shove a ridiculously large bag into the overhead compartment, startled her awake from her half sleep.  She looked over to see what the racket was and noticed the same guy looking at her again.  She gave him a slight, little smile of acknowledgement and shut her eyes once more.  She wondered if he was staring with approval or disapproval.  Was her mascara smeared?  That would have been disapproval.  Was her blouse unbuttoned?  From a man, approval.  He was probably just stunned from having been hit by her big butt, she thought.

     When he wasn’t looking, she craned her head around the people separating them to get a better look at him.  He had very dark hair, the darkest brown, almost black and an olive complexion with strong features.  He opened his eyes and looked over at her.  Oh, did he see me?  

     She tried to sleep again but couldn’t.  How did she know him?  She couldn’t place him, and that’s not a face she would easily forget.  She glanced at him again.

     He stood up and was trying to step into the aisle just in time to have the food cart come rattling through.  He was going to say something to her, but it was either get back in his seat or end up road kill from a food cart.

     At that point, he threw courtesy to the wind as he tried to lean around the people between them and strike up a conversation.  But a flight attendant saw this opportunity to drape herself over the seat and introduce herself to him.  Blythe laughed.  She couldn’t hear his muffled responses, but she could hear the singsong, twittering cadence of the flight attendant.  “What’s your name?”  “What do you do?”  “Why are you going to Memphis?”  Tee hee, tee hee.

     After the flight attendant left, he attempted one more time to stand and approach her, but the pilot asked them all to remain seated.  Blythe smiled to herself.  She had enjoyed this weird little flirtation.  It gave her a rush through the middle of her stomach.  She hadn’t felt particularly attractive lately.  In fact, she couldn’t imagine a guy as attractive as that one even looking at her.  It was times like this that made her realize just how insecure she had become.

Author Bio:

Dana Page was raised in Memphis, Tennessee.  Born just down the road from Memphis in Helena, Arkansas, she considers the Mississippi River Delta her own personal inspiration. Having earned adegree in journalism from Texas A&M University, she has utilized her writing skills in varied areas - small-town politics, human interest stories and writing an entertainment column, to name a few. To support her writing habit, she has worked an odd job or two.  Don't ask her about delivering singing telegrams; some things are best forgotten.  Pass the Hot Stuff is Dana’s debut novel.

  

Excerpt: Kiss Me, Dancer

Authors Alicia and Roy Street are currently on tour with CLP Blog Tours with their novel Kiss Me, Dancer. I haven't read this book myself but after checking out this excerpt I think I might have to! Hope you all enjoy it as well :)

Casey Richardson stopped correcting the drooping hands and unpointed feet of her nine and ten-year-old students doing ronde de jambes at the barre when a man barged into her sunny mirrored studio, interrupting her Saturday morning ballet class.
A man who just happened to resemble a Greek god walking the earth in jeans and silky black tee. She ignored the flush of heat going through her at the sight of this hunk and said, “Excuse me, sir, but we have a class in session.” He shot Casey an impatient glance, stunning her with teal blue eyes. Grabbed little Josh by the arm and tugged him toward the lobby.
She’d seen Josh’s parents at the last dance recital, and this guy definitely was not one of them. “Wait a second,” Casey said, trying to cut him off as he made his way from the studio. “What do you think you’re doing?”
He stepped past her.
The classroom of students fell silent. Casey turned to them. “Same drill. Ronde de jambes. Let’s go.” She nodded to Jiao at the piano. Her accompanist went into Chopin’s Waltz in C-sharp minor.
Casey raced out to the lobby after the man (trying not to notice he had the most splendid back she’d ever seen). Timid Josh gave him no resistance, but looked like he was about to cry.
“Lisa, block the door.” The eighteen-year-old intern at the desk just sat there wide-eyed, unprepared for the sudden call to arms.
But Casey wasn’t about to let some pervert make off with one of her precious flock. As the hunk reached for the door handle she slipped in front of him, her back to the door, her palms pressed like stop signs against his chest. She told herself she didn’t notice the hard curve of muscle beneath her hands. Or that his face looked even better up close.
“Hold it or I’ll call the police. Who are you, and what do you want with Josh?”

            

Excerpt: Children of the Gods

Good news everyone! I finally have internet at home so you'll be hearing from me a little more regularly - yay! Nothing like surgery, a vacation, a move, starting a new job, and over a week without internet (during which I was busy unpacking and trying not to lose my mind) all within a couple of months. Helping me get back into the swing of things is hosting a stop on the CLP Blog Tour for Monica Millard's novel Children of the Gods. If you think the following excerpt sounds interesting, make sure you  keep checking the reviews on the CLP site to see what others thought of the book.

Happy reading! :)


A hush fell over the crowd, but that was not what jarred me back into the present. I felt it when the Halorans stepped from their glowing pedestal onto our soil. It was like the earth was warning me, sending a current of energy up through my feet. It had never happened before. 
I wiped this and all other thoughts from my mind. I imagined dried corn, sterile fields, and barren deserts. Then I tried to become one; unwelcoming and inhospitable as I could be. 
The Halorans had come to us hundreds of years before, when our City was just a village. They promised life free of hunger and poverty to a starving people. In exchange, the offering of a few healthy teens every twenty or thirty years, so a God might inhabit and co-exist inside their body, did not seem such a high price. Back then, they thought starvation was the worst thing anyone ever had to endure. 
In the years before the first Choosing, under the protection and care of the Halorans, our meager village blossomed into a thriving city, their city. It became known to all as The City of the Gods, and anyone who lived within came to be known as The Children of the Gods. 
After the first Choosing, the Halorans closed our borders. Generations later, we are captives of a choice we ourselves did not get to make. 
I am not sure who I was more angry with, our elders for bartering their children’s and our lives so easily or the Halorans themselves. 
Quickly, I forced my mind to return to the images of the desert and my skin being covered over by the hostile winds of my own private sand storm. No one would choose such an unfavorable host body. I hoped.
I looked at my bare toes as they approached. After a long moment, I could feel the tension of every held breath. Not even the wind seemed to be blowing. I looked up to see that the Halorans were stopped in front of my row, the Sari looking expectant. A smile teased the corners of his lips as he made eye contact. In anyone else, his actions might seem flirtatious. But he was not anyone else. 
With his guards not standing next to him, I was struck by just how tall this Sari really was. His young features belied his extensive years. If I did not know better, I could believe he belonged in line next to Niko. The innocence associated with their perpetually youthful appearance may also have been what led to our ancestor’s easy trust of them. When they began to move again, I did not let the breath I was holding free. I was not safe. In fact, I was probably in more danger than before. The Halorans thrived on the dramatic. They also chose each of their mates new hosts. If the Sari was choosing, and it appeared he was, then it was no longer Niko I had to worry about. 
My head began to swim. It would do me no good to faint. Fainting would not stop them if I was Chosen. It had happened before. The guard just collected the girl, tossed her over his shoulder and carried her to the pedestal. My breath was like the wind, dancing in the hair of the girl before me as I exhaled. Oddly, her swirling golden hair sounded like wind chimes. It took me a moment to realize the chimes I was hearing were from the decision bell. I knew before I looked up. 
A single finger pointed in my direction. The guard stood by the girl in front of me. The Sari shook his head and the guard brushed her aside. The Sari’s white teeth gleamed in the sunlight as a smile spread across his horrid face. “This one?” The guard gestured at me. 
He nodded. 
The Luna, his mate, looked almost sympathetic. It could not be. She must be too sick to smile. They felt no sympathy for the lives they stole. If anything, the Choosing was high entertainment for them. 
Several guards came close, surrounding me. I bowed my head, showing my acceptance. The Sari turned and walked away. The guards all tensed. The Halorans no longer turned their backs on us after choosing. Not since a girl plunged a dagger in the back of her Sari. 
We all knew they were not really gods as they claimed. In the beginning, everyone was eager to be Chosen. They were told, by allowing a god to inhabit their body, they would also become gods.  After the first generation of Chosen came back to choose, the truth was obvious. But it was not until a generation ago, when a girl, Lennie, stabbed the Sari who chose her, that we knew they could die. 
The guards took a step forward. I held my hands out to show I did not have any weapons. I was searched thoroughly before entering the courtyard, but if a person wanted it enough, they could find a way to bring a weapon in. The guards relaxed, but not by much. I took a step forward, my eyes searched for Niko as I turned to make the walk. He caught my eye and raised his hand like he was reaching out for me. Mercifully, those around him restrained him. It was an unfair thing I had done to him.