Showing posts with label Christine Fonseca. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Christine Fonseca. Show all posts

Monday, October 10, 2016

Release Day Blitz: UnHoly Death


Title: UnHoly Death
Author: Christine Fonseca
Genre: YA Gothic Romance
Hosted by: Lady Amber’s PR
Blurb: Aydan wants to believe Nesy has returned to him in Vanessa. But her lack of memories and incessant nightmares begin to erode his faith. Zane is used to trusting his mind, his wisdom and his angelic senses. But these attributes are no help with Vanessa. He has no way to be certain of her true identity. That is, unless he listens to the one thing he has refused to acknowledge throughout his existence - his feelings for Nesy.

Blind to both angel and demon, Aydan and Zane must now figure out the truth behind Nesy's identity before all is lost, Azza discovers the truth and the Beast is again unleashed.

Tagline: The line between good and evil has never been so blurred.


Award-winning and critically-acclaimed author of fiction and non-fiction. Lover of books, lattes, and family. Passionate about humanity. Recent titles include Transcend, The Solomon Experiment series, and Emotional Intensity in Gifted Students, second edition.
When Christine isn’t writing a book, she can be found sipping too many skinny vanilla lattes next to a beach with a book in her hand.
For more information, visit her website – http://christinefonseca.com.
Author Links:
Buy Links:
Sentinal’s Tear Amazon: http://amzn.to/2a4YXZ9
UnHoly Death
Chapter 1
Zanethios
The Cold water bites into my hand as silver liquid streams down the drain. My thoughts scroll through every moment of the battle: Nesy’s eyes bulging as Azza’s sword cuts through her armor, piercing her heart; Aydan and Mikayel’s screams splitting through the night sky; Nesy’s mind closing in on itself. It’s all too much. My knees buckle. I cling to the basin and wait for the wave of emotion to pass. Nothing I do erases the images permanently burned into my memories. No amount of meditation calms my soul. No amount of water removes the blood, her blood, from my hands, my arms, my clothes.
Nesy is gone.
Forever gone.
I try to shake away the thoughts that refuse to retreat, desperate for a respite I know will never come.
“Zane?”
The voice pushes aside my grief.
“Zane. Mikayel’s asking for you.”
I focus on the voice, forcing myself to respond, move, anything. But I can’t. I’m locked in a grief I don’t fully understand; one I never thought I would feel. Not like this.
Never like this.
“Zane! Come. Mikayel’s waiting.”
Cass touches my shoulder and enters my heart. Her presence fills me with a peace only the Anointed can command. I breathe her in and silently beg her to clear away my pain. One moment bleeds into the next. The feelings ebb. I take another breath. Her presence spreads through me. Until finally there is peace. At last.
But for how long?
“I’m coming,” The words are thick against my mouth. “I’m coming.”
I dry my hands and follow Cass away from my quarters. The hallowed halls stream past me in a blur. Everything is surreal and detached, as though I am no longer part of this world at all. I grow thin with each step and I wonder…
Will I fade away completely?
Cass pulls me through the labyrinth towards the Council chamber. Is Mikayel back? Has he avenged Nesy’s death?
Anointed and Mediators run through the halls. Their faces speak a truth I cannot bear—the war has cost more than we’d expected. More than I expected. Sentinals and Guardians pour from portals, their bodies marred with the signs of battle. Blood, demonic and angelic, stain their armor, their tunics, their wings. 1…30…75. I count the angels running past me. Less than half have returned. Are the rest still battling? I know the answer before the question fully forms. The battle is over.
Nesy is gone.
Azza is gone.
And Aydan...
Aydan...
My mind reaches for him. His torment and pain flood my senses. My hand searches for Cass’s, desperate to cling to something stronger than me. My legs again buckle under the weight of too much emotion. Mine, Aydan’s, the angels’. It’s more than I can bear, more than any of us can. 
Why did this have to happen?
Aydan’s rage lingers in the air. I sense the beast that still lives within him. How long before he succumbs to it? How long before he forgets Nesy and becomes everything Azza has intended.
How long?
“This way.” Cass again pulls me out of my thoughts as I walk away from the antechamber, noticing Aydan’s broken shell curled in on itself. Sobs rack his body like waves buffeting a boat. He will not recover from this. If she dies, he will also.
If she dies—
The thought betrays my hopes. Of course she’ll die. No one can survive Azza’s sword. Not even Mikayel. What chance does Nesy have now?
What chance do any of us have?
Cass tugs on my arm as we wind through the halls into a chamber I’ve never seen. The walls shine with an eerie indigo glow. Two large angels, Mikayel and Raphael, pray over a golden angel marred by a never-ending stream of silver blood.
Nesy.
The blood pools around her still body and I know it’s too much. She cannot survive this, no matter how much we pray. My mouth opens to speak; the sound dies long before the words form. Cass again calms my heart.
Or is it Raphael calming me now?
“Go.” Cass nudges me forward. “He’s waiting.” My feet remain glued to the spot, permanently tethered to the floor.
“I need a minute,” Mikayel whispers to Raphael. He nods and turns toward me. A single tear streams down his face.
I’m not used to seeing the Council show such intense emotion, even for those that have fallen. But somehow, Nesy’s death has touched them all.
“She’s not yet dead,” Raphael says as he passes. “But I have no way to heal her.”
I nod, still unable to speak.
“I’ll be back,” Cass whispers before turning to leave with her master. She’s handling this well. She’s stronger than me, stronger than any of us.
When did that happen? I was always the strongest amongst us.
Before.
“Zane.” Mikayel’s voice is hollow, detached. It fills me with a profound sadness I can almost taste. “Come.”
He motions for me to join him. I stare at the broken body—her body—lying on the altar next to Mikayel. Her wings, limp and lifeless, hang alongside her body and drape along the floor. Silver blood glistens from her wounds and coats her skin. Her breastplate is gone, revealing the full depth of her injuries. Azza’s sword penetrated her lungs and pierced her heart, leaving an angry red gash in its wake.
“She still lives. Barely.”
“Is there anything anyone can do?” The words burn against the back of my throat. I cough, choking on my own grief.
“Perhaps.” Mikayel turns away from Nesy. His gaze locks with mine. “There is something that may help her still, something I have told no one.”
My brows furrows as I try to decipher the look of madness now etched on Mikayel’s face.
“Do you know the way to Azzaziel’s realm?”
“Yes.” My voice quivers.
“I need you to go there. For Nesy.”
“To Azza? No. He’s the reason—”
“Not to Azza.” Mikayel’s voice grows cold. “To the demonic smoke that lives in the labyrinth.”
“Why?”
“It owes me a favor; one I intend on collecting.”
“I don’t understand. What does the demonic smoke have to do with Nesy?”
 “It has the power to bring her back.”
I stare at Mikayel in disbelief. There is nothing that can be done for her now, nothing good at least.
“The demonic smoke is something different from us, different from Azzaziel. It has the power to heal her wounds and turn her mortal. But it won’t get involved unless you go and bargain with it.”
“Me? What could I possibly offer? And why can’t you go? You said it owed you the favor.”
“It does. But as you know, the smoke lives in Azza’s realm. He will know of my presence the second I arrive, and Azza can never learn of what we are about to do.” Mikayel swallows hard, the lines of his face like stone. “I know I ask a lot, but this is the only way. A deal must be bartered and Azza must not find out. You are the only one I trust, the only one—”
“Who is expendable.”
“No. The only one I am willing to send. But it must be your choice. Azza will sense your presence if you are only there on my command.”
I turn away from Mikayel. My hands ball into fists at my side. Everything about the request feels wrong—the bargain with this mysterious entity, pushing the limits of the natural order by bringing Nesy back from the dead, everything.
“She is not dead yet,” Mikayel says, sensing my hesitation. “But this is the only way to save her.”
There is no way I can refuse, no way to live with myself if I do. I push aside the growing doubt and fear that clouds my thoughts, push away the image of Nesy dying in front of me, push away my consciousness screaming “No.”
There is only one thing I can say, only one phrase that will form on my lips. “When do I leave?”
“One more thing, Zane, the Council cannot know of this task. Gabriel cannot know.”
I face Mikayel and my face hardens with my doubts. “I will not lie to my master.”
“I’m not asking you to lie. Just don’t seek his permission. I will talk with Gabriel after you’ve left.” Mikayel squares his shoulders and burns into my thoughts. I won’t forsake my master. Not even for Nesy.
Mikayel’s eyes release me and settle on the broken body of Nesy, so lifeless in front of us. “This, her injuries, they’re my fault. I won’t have her die because of me. I can’t let that happen again.”
“Again? So the stories Azza told her were true.”
“I have caused many deaths, yes.”
Anger bubbles through me. “You feel guilty. That’s what this is really about. And you need me to fix it for you.” The words sound more like Nesy’s than my own, only she would be screaming by now.
Mikayel bristles as he focuses his attention back to me.
“I’m right, aren’t I? Sir.”
Anger changes to sympathy in his eyes. “You feel deeply for Nesy, don’t you?”
The truth in his words startles me.
“I recognize the emotion in your eyes. Don’t try to deny it. You will help me because you know it’s the only way to save her. And, Zanethios, you need her to live as much as I do.”
“But becoming mortal, human? It isn’t the same as being healed.”
“True, but it’s the only chance we have. The only way she can survive at all.”
His words hang in the air, tempting me. He’s right about my feelings for Nesy. I do need her to survive. My feelings are more complex than I’ve admitted to anyone, including myself. In truth, I don’t understand them. All I know for certain is I can’t imagine a world where Nesy is gone.
I swallow back the apprehension that lodges in my throat. “Are you certain this demonic smoke will comply with my request?”
“It has no choice. It owes me a favor. But, there will still be a price to pay. It will expect payment. You need to be cautious. Don’t be fooled if it seems to understand you, your heart and your feelings. It is nothing more than illusion dressed up in smoke; a trickster that feeds from the chaos it creates. Nothing more. Do you understand me?”
“I understand.”
“You must mind your emotions when you are in Azza’s realm. They have served you well in the past. But with the smoke, they will betray you.”
Shock fills my cells. What emotions? “I have no emotions to mind.”
A smile forms in Mikayel’s eyes. “That may work with your friends and Gabriel. But I know the truth. You are more like me, more like Nesy, than you are willing to admit. Be careful you don’t let that become your weakness.”
Too many words stumble through me. They die before they are spoken, leaving only emotions that swirl in intoxicating patterns—feelings for Nesy, for Aydan. Hope and betrayal. Love and rage. It’s more than I can acknowledge, more than I can tolerate.
And none of it’s true—just an illusion, a trick of my grief, my mind. Something I’ve never acknowledged.
Nothing but a myth.
I think.

Tuesday, April 5, 2016

Release Day Blitz: Outbreak


Title: Outbreak
Author: Christine Fonseca
Genre: YA Sci-Fi/Action-Adventure
Hosted by: Lady Amber’s PR
Blurb: 
Dakota never thought she’d crave her old life in Boresville. Not until the Creator’s assassins came and took everything, everyone, she cared about—all except for David. He’s the only thing she has left, and he wants her to reclaim her so-called gifts once and for all, something that will force her into the very life she’s trying to avoid. 

When a new secret reveals both hope and betrayal, Dakota is forced to face a destiny she no longer wants. Now she must learn how to trust her instincts without becoming the thing she fears most—a killer. 





Award-winning and critically-acclaimed author of fiction and non-fiction. Lover of books, lattes, and family. Passionate about humanity. Recent titles include Transcend, The Solomon Experiment series, and Emotional Intensity in Gifted Students, second edition.

When Christine isn’t writing a book, she can be found sipping too many skinny vanilla lattes next to a beach with a book in her hand.

For more information, visit her website – http://christinefonseca.com.
Author Links:
Author Amazon: http://amzn.to/1ovspOw
Buy Links: Amazon: http://amzn.to/1qksrKX
**Collide, Book One is on sale for #99cents til 4/15**

Seven padded across the room, watchful and silent. He’d learned a few things since the Architect’s death, lessons that included never making yourself too known to others and never becoming too confident of your position within the Order or with the Creator. Both would get you killed. Seven knew he had to play things cool if he was going to survive whatever the Creator had planned.

The floor was cold beneath his bare feet. “Be in touch with the ground whenever you can. You will sense more of the life around you,” the Creator said. “And that will fuel your abilities.” He drilled this into Seven constantly, so much so that he almost never wore shoes at the compound.

But this wasn’t his compound now. That had been destroyed by the very people he was meant to capture. This was something new, some place foreign.

Are you ready for your next assignment? The Creator’s voice soothed Seven’s restlessness.

Yes, Master. Always.

Come to my office. This is something we must discuss first. In person.

Yes, Master. Seven didn’t like feeling summoned by anyone, not even the Creator. Not that he could do anything about it. He was the subordinate, at least for now. One day he would have enough strength to be considered an equal. But not yet. For now, Seven was nothing more than an apprentice.

Seven glanced around his new room, smaller than his quarters in the compound. This place was more like a warehouse, and his room more like a prison cell.

All of the survivors, the few that were left after the vicious attack at the lab, had settled here a few days after the events. Considered nothing more than temporary housing, the facility still looked like the abandoned warehouse it was when they found it over a month ago. Nothing felt like home to any of them, least of all Seven.

He walked to the small mirror that lined the back of his door. His eyes still held the fire, the passion, from before the attack. But there was less naiveté now. Less hubris. Or superiority.
Memories of the attack filled Seven’s mind. The girl that caused the chaos and took the Architect’s life. The boy that fought like a samurai and threatened Seven’s world. The fire that spread through every room, killing many of the recruits, his friends. Seven was not as prepared as he thought; not as strong. He should have been able to stop the two from escaping. If he had—

Seven couldn’t finish the thought. It bothered him to think that his failures were directly responsible for the destruction of the compound. The Creator never blamed Seven, nor had any members of the Order. They didn’t have to—Seven carried the guilt anyway. It powered his motivation, gave him focus.

He noted the scar that stretched across his forehead, over his brow line. It hadn’t existed before that night. Now it served as a reminder, something his guilt could cling to whenever he began to release it.

Why are you still in your quarters?

The Creator’s impatience pulled Seven from his thoughts. Sorry, Master. I’m coming. He closed his eyes and refocused. There was no time for him to wallow, no time to wonder about the past. There was only now, and his need to prove to the Order—to himself—that he was a worthy heir to the Creator.

The walk to his Master’s office seemed longer than usual. Seven’s heavy footfalls on the hard concrete ground sent tremors up his legs, which settled in his torso. Each step brought a new trepidation. Seven again refocused. He couldn’t be in the presence of the Creator in this state. He had to settle his fears and be the disciplined warrior once more.

Voices emanated from behind the closed doors of the office. The Creator’s and more. Seven stopped and stared. Centering his mind, he pushed his thoughts through the heavy, metal door. The Creator’s office came into view. Sterile, stern, unyielding—just like the Creator himself. On the wall projected five pictures, each with one filled with a different member of the Order. Seven looked at his Master, noting the concern etched on his face. As quickly as he’d seen his Master’s emotions, Seven was thrown from the room and back into his own thoughts. He tried again to push into the space but was blocked. Whatever was happening, it was clear the Creator wasn’t about to allow Seven into his inner sanctum. Seven would have to be content to simply listen through the door.

Seven leaned in closer, struggling to make out the muffled sounds. He closed his eyes and focused hard.

“You have failed us for the last time, LeMercier.” The voice was deep, male. And clearly angry.

“What do you mean, failed? Nothing is lost. The experiments can continue.” The Creator spoke in measured tones. “We have everything we need.”

“And what of the Assassin,” a new voice questioned. “You promised she wouldn’t be a problem. She was supposed to have joined you, completed the mission. Instead she is on the loose, out there somewhere.”

Seven had heard this voice before. She had visited the lab once. The Creator had been agitated when she left.

Just like now.

“I am well aware of the Assassin’s whereabouts,” the Creator said. “She poses no threat. When the time is right, she will return to me of her own choice.”

“Can you be sure? Were you not just as certain last time?”

Seven pictured the same frustration on the Creator’s face. “Last time, I—”

The voices quieted, blurred. Seven pressed hard against the door, unable to hear another word. The harder he tried, the less he was able to make out. Only a few strangled words:

“Apprentice . . .”

“. . . will not fail . . .”

“. . . destiny . . . success . . .”

The voices faded completely and Seven edged back from the heavy door, his mind deep in thought.

“Come,” the Creator said, both aloud and through Seven’s thoughts.

Seven straightened, settling his mind before facing the Creator. “Yes, Master. What is my next assignment?” he asked, pretending he’d heard none of his Master’s concerns with the Order.

“You have questions,” the Creator asked. Clearly Seven needed to practice his blocking skills.

“No, Master.”

“You wonder why I am concerned, wonder if you should be concerned as well.”

Yes, Seven needed a lot more practice. “No, Master.”

The Creator scrutinized Seven, touching his thoughts. Seven stilled his body, his mind, everything. He waited until he could feel the Creator withdraw.

The Creator smiled. “Return to your quarters. We will talk tomorrow. This is not the time.”

Before Seven could object, the Creator turned his back, sealing his feelings and thoughts away from the young apprentice.

“Tomorrow,” the Creator said with finality.

“Yes, Master.” Seven returned to his room, a mixture of confusion and apprehension dripping from every pour. Whatever was happening, Seven knew he had to align himself cautiously, had to choose the right side of the impending storm. His survival likely depended on it.

But which side was the right side?

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