Do you guys remember my love for TITAN MAGIC by Jodi Lamm? The story is one of the most original ones I've ever read, and consistent and excellent with it. The uniqueness made me happy, but so did the storytelling, the concept, the plotting. It's just an all around amazing book?
Well, did you know there's a sequel coming out? Oh, yeah, Titan Magic: Body and Soul is set to come out, and Jodi was kind enough to offer us fans an awesome teaser!
Well, did you know there's a sequel coming out? Oh, yeah, Titan Magic: Body and Soul is set to come out, and Jodi was kind enough to offer us fans an awesome teaser!
Buried in the shadows of a damp alley, a little girl huddled over something dead. The boy knew it was dead without even seeing the thing in her arms. He and Death were more intimate than even he understood.
He tiptoed toward the girl, careful not to disturb her. He wanted to watch her mourn a while longer. Mourning was something he would never be able to do, but always be fascinated by. Still humans had a way of knowing they were being watched, even at the worst of times, and eventually, the little girl lifted her head. She stared a long time before she spoke, and the boy didn’t dare move for fear of frightening her.
“Go away,” the girl said, when she found her tongue.
The boy cocked his head. Was she trying to command him? He smiled at the girl in an attempt to disarm her. That always worked well with his guardian’s master. It didn’t work on the girl.
“I said, go away!” She picked up a stone and tossed it at him. It hit his shin, but he didn’t budge. Nothing ever hurt for long.
The boy knew how to get the girl to trust him. He’d been planning it for some time. The next time he saw someone mourning, he had decided he would stop it. He knew exactly how. He approached slowly at first, and then with more confidence. He kept smiling, wishing he could talk to her, but no matter what he said, he knew she wouldn’t hear him. Only his guardian and his creator could hear him. He knelt beside the girl, and she instinctively folded her arms over the dead thing in her lap.
The boy held his smile and reached out to touch the girl. He knew he was much stronger than her, so he was careful not to use any force. Just nudge her. Just a little push. And he opened her arms to see a black cat curled into a death-ball in her lap. Its mouth was frozen in a silent hiss, its body arched and stiff. He touched it and knew it had been a mother. He knew every mark on its flesh, knew how the creature had died. He stroked it to calm the girl. She would trust him if she saw that he loved what she loved. He had learned that lesson weeks ago. He had even written it down in the margin of his anatomy sketchbook, so he would be sure to remember.
If you want people to trust you, make them believe you care about the same things they do.
As the boy stroked the dead cat, he collected tiny particles of it in the palm of his hand—only a little, so the girl wouldn’t notice. He unraveled the particles into threads of flesh, thin as a spider’s web, until he could pull away with each of his fingers connected to the cat by a thread of invisible flesh. Then, not losing his smile, he made the cat yawn and stretch with those threads like some kind of gruesome puppeteer.
It was not easy, but the boy had been practicing with birds and mice when his guardian couldn’t see. He’d learned how much force he could use with the different stages of rigor mortise. He’d even learned how to slacken the bodies a little and make them appear more lifelike. He knew opening the cat’s eyes would be a mistake—he hadn’t yet learned to reconstruct flesh—so he made sure to move the cat as though it were still sleepy.
More yawns and stretches, a circle or two, and he laid it back down in her lap, remembering to make it breathe.
At first, the girl only stared in frightened shock. But the boy brought the cat’s head to the girl’s hand and made it nudge her, the way he’d seen cats do when they wanted affection. The girl rubbed the tears from her face and stared up at him with bloodshot eyes and pink cheeks. She was beautiful, he thought, alive and suffering. He could almost see the ache in her.
“You… You brought her back.” She rubbed her nose with her arm and sniffed. “How’d you do that?”
He shook his head and pointed to his mouth with the hand that wasn’t busy working the cat-puppet.
“You can’t talk?”
He nodded.
“Poor boy.”
He shook his head and smiled, trying to tell her it was fine. He didn’t mind. He was used to it.
“I’m Hannah.” She held out her hand, but he didn’t take it. “I wish you could tell me your name.”
On cue, his guardian’s voice echoed down the alley. “Kaspar, you get back here! Kaspar!”
The girl called Hannah giggled. “You must be Kaspar. You’d better go. He sounds mad.”
Kaspar made the cat curl into a ball and hesitated. He wouldn’t be able to get too far before Hannah noticed her cat was still dead. He could work it from a distance, but not believably. He would have to practice more. Then he wondered whether her renewed state of mourning would be the same or worse than before. And he wondered whether he wanted to see it. He decided her smile was every bit as intriguing as her tears, but for what reason, he couldn’t tell. Maybe because it wasn’t false the way his was, or maybe he liked it because he had caused it.
He tiptoed toward the girl, careful not to disturb her. He wanted to watch her mourn a while longer. Mourning was something he would never be able to do, but always be fascinated by. Still humans had a way of knowing they were being watched, even at the worst of times, and eventually, the little girl lifted her head. She stared a long time before she spoke, and the boy didn’t dare move for fear of frightening her.
“Go away,” the girl said, when she found her tongue.
The boy cocked his head. Was she trying to command him? He smiled at the girl in an attempt to disarm her. That always worked well with his guardian’s master. It didn’t work on the girl.
“I said, go away!” She picked up a stone and tossed it at him. It hit his shin, but he didn’t budge. Nothing ever hurt for long.
The boy knew how to get the girl to trust him. He’d been planning it for some time. The next time he saw someone mourning, he had decided he would stop it. He knew exactly how. He approached slowly at first, and then with more confidence. He kept smiling, wishing he could talk to her, but no matter what he said, he knew she wouldn’t hear him. Only his guardian and his creator could hear him. He knelt beside the girl, and she instinctively folded her arms over the dead thing in her lap.
The boy held his smile and reached out to touch the girl. He knew he was much stronger than her, so he was careful not to use any force. Just nudge her. Just a little push. And he opened her arms to see a black cat curled into a death-ball in her lap. Its mouth was frozen in a silent hiss, its body arched and stiff. He touched it and knew it had been a mother. He knew every mark on its flesh, knew how the creature had died. He stroked it to calm the girl. She would trust him if she saw that he loved what she loved. He had learned that lesson weeks ago. He had even written it down in the margin of his anatomy sketchbook, so he would be sure to remember.
If you want people to trust you, make them believe you care about the same things they do.
As the boy stroked the dead cat, he collected tiny particles of it in the palm of his hand—only a little, so the girl wouldn’t notice. He unraveled the particles into threads of flesh, thin as a spider’s web, until he could pull away with each of his fingers connected to the cat by a thread of invisible flesh. Then, not losing his smile, he made the cat yawn and stretch with those threads like some kind of gruesome puppeteer.
It was not easy, but the boy had been practicing with birds and mice when his guardian couldn’t see. He’d learned how much force he could use with the different stages of rigor mortise. He’d even learned how to slacken the bodies a little and make them appear more lifelike. He knew opening the cat’s eyes would be a mistake—he hadn’t yet learned to reconstruct flesh—so he made sure to move the cat as though it were still sleepy.
More yawns and stretches, a circle or two, and he laid it back down in her lap, remembering to make it breathe.
At first, the girl only stared in frightened shock. But the boy brought the cat’s head to the girl’s hand and made it nudge her, the way he’d seen cats do when they wanted affection. The girl rubbed the tears from her face and stared up at him with bloodshot eyes and pink cheeks. She was beautiful, he thought, alive and suffering. He could almost see the ache in her.
“You… You brought her back.” She rubbed her nose with her arm and sniffed. “How’d you do that?”
He shook his head and pointed to his mouth with the hand that wasn’t busy working the cat-puppet.
“You can’t talk?”
He nodded.
“Poor boy.”
He shook his head and smiled, trying to tell her it was fine. He didn’t mind. He was used to it.
“I’m Hannah.” She held out her hand, but he didn’t take it. “I wish you could tell me your name.”
On cue, his guardian’s voice echoed down the alley. “Kaspar, you get back here! Kaspar!”
The girl called Hannah giggled. “You must be Kaspar. You’d better go. He sounds mad.”
Kaspar made the cat curl into a ball and hesitated. He wouldn’t be able to get too far before Hannah noticed her cat was still dead. He could work it from a distance, but not believably. He would have to practice more. Then he wondered whether her renewed state of mourning would be the same or worse than before. And he wondered whether he wanted to see it. He decided her smile was every bit as intriguing as her tears, but for what reason, he couldn’t tell. Maybe because it wasn’t false the way his was, or maybe he liked it because he had caused it.
Don't forget to enter the international prize pack for the event in order to win a copy of TITAN MAGIC by Jodi Lamm, among other amazing books! a Rafflecopter giveaway
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Mute, heartless, and tormented by auditory hallucinations, Madeleine Lavoie never questions why her family has hidden her from the world. But the night her brother casts her out, she learns the mysterious voice she thought existed only in her mind is no delusion, and no matter how hard she tries, she can never disobey it.
Now Madeleine must find her own voice in a cacophony of powerful tyrants, monsters, and gods. If she fails, she will forfeit her life and the lives of everyone who loves her. But if she succeeds, she may finally gain the ability to love someone in return.
Make sure to stop by later today for the rest of the posts in the event--there will be four others!!
Find out what happened the first week of Paranormous Fantastival and enter to win some amazing prize packs!
Find out what happened the second week and stay updated!
Don't forget to check out last week's schedule as well!
And, lastly, stop by this final week's schedule to find out what's going to happen leading up to the event wrap-up!
Thank you so much, Jodi! I can't tell you how excited I am to not only read a sequel to a book I adore, but another book of yours! Comment down below if you've read TITAN MAGIC and loved it!
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