Wombstone by Jessica Roscoe Blog TourSaturday, April 27, 2013
Title: Wombstone: A Vampireland Novel
Author: Jessica Roscoe
Genre: YA Paranormal (Warning - Mature Readers only 15+. Book includes violence, swearing and sex scenes)
Publisher: Indiana Ink Publishing
Release Date: March 1st, 2013
Edition/Formats available: Ebook
Mia Blake wasn’t the first girl to be taken by the vampires. She is kidnapped and held prisoner by Caleb, the world’s oldest and most powerful vampire. Turned against her will, Mia must find a way to free herself from Caleb’s grip and get back to those she loves. But defeating the world’s most powerful vampire isn't going to be easy…
“What do you want?” I kept throwing questions at him. “Who are you?”
“You are here,” he answered. “If you keep asking questions, I’ll kill you.”
“You broke my nose,” I said accusingly, narrowing my eyes.
He raised his eyebrows, coming closer, peering at my nose. “I could punch you again, straighten it up?”
I pulled my head back, just out of his reach. “I’ll be fine, thanks.”
“Do you need anything? More blankets?”
I stared incredulously at this teetering Jekyll and Hyde who wanted to punch me and get me a blankie in the same conversation. “I need to get home,” I said slowly, as if I were speaking to a moron. “I have my geometry final in two days.”
His tone was dry. “Somehow, I don’t think that’s going to be a problem anymore.”
Fear shot up my spine again. “Look” - I started.
“No, you look,” he said dangerously, putting a hot hand around my throat and squeezing. “I didn’t come in here to make casual conversation.”
I gasped and choked for air.
“Just do what you’re told. Cooperate. It will be over soon enough.”
I nodded, still choking. He released his grip and I fell to my knees, holding my throat with both hands. He waited, staring at me blankly, as I found the air to speak.
As I asked the question I wasn’t sure I wanted answered.
“Are you going to kill me?”
He laughed, but his mask slipped a little, because he faltered. “Of course not.”
“Well then you’re pretty stupid,” I shot. “Letting me see your face. Your license plate. Your tattoo.” I pointed to the black, luminous symbol etched onto his wrist that looked like a pair of eagle’s wings.
“Are you trying to talk me into it?” he asked with a smirk.
I glared at him.
“I know what you’re doing, sweetie. You’re trying to provoke me.”
“How am I doing so far?”
He grinned like the smug bastard he was. “Terribly.”
Once upon a time, I was just a girl. My name was Mia. I lived a long way away from here. I had a mother and a best friend and a boyfriend I was pretty sure I had fallen completely in love with. I lived most of the time in my dorm room at my high school, because despite any other excuse, I didn’t like to be alone.
I wasn’t the first girl that was taken.
Sure, I had heard all about the girls who were missing, and even though they were only ‘missing’ I knew in my heart that those girls were dead. And my heart scrunched up in agony for them, for their families, just for a moment. Until the thought was replaced by something else, something different, because I couldn’t bear to think about those poor dead girls any longer.
I felt sad for them. But more than that, I felt glad that they had been strangers – not someone I knew, and certainly not me. Things like that didn’t happen to girls like me.
They always happened to someone else, and that’s why I barely blinked as I made my way across an empty football field, through a snow–laden parking lot, to meet a fate I had arrogantly assumed was reserved for other people.
I was a stupid girl.
I paid for it.
Those were the first words I ever heard.
I opened my eyes. Naked save for a bloodied white sheet, my tender skin covered in sticky red blood. My broken body somehow – impossibly – repairing itself.
I tried to turn my head to the side, to see where I was, and groaned in pain. Staying still felt better. I was sticky and bruised. My body was fighting hard to mend all the deep gashes and crushed bones. I lifted an arm and gently felt my eye where I had taken the impact of the unforgiving ground. It was excruciatingly painful to the touch – but it wasn't shattered anymore. It was in one unbroken piece, as if my fall had been a terrible dream. The oddly comforting metallic taste in my mouth told me otherwise, though.
I reached out with my hands, touching stiff sheets. I was hot, but I was shivering, goosebumps lining my arms.
It was so hard to keep my eyes open, but I fought to stay awake. I wasn't dead. I still had something left inside of me. I couldn't give up yet.
A face appeared above me. Something warm and coppery touched my lips.
Time passed – how much, I have no idea – and I stayed in the same spot, and I slept off death.
“Mia!” Ryan snapped, grabbing my shoulder and shaking me out of my thoughts.
“What?” I yelled. Tears filled my eyes but I refused to let them spill over.
He let go of my shoulder and spoke in a softer voice. “I know this is hard for you. There are things happening right now that you can’t even begin to understand. Just remember this: You’re not dead. It was close – you were almost dead. You can see them again,” he gestured to the photo strip in my hand, “but first I need to make sure you’re safe. The people who were after you in Mexico still want you back.”
I glared at him. “Is this supposed to make me happy?” I asked coldly. “Because it doesn’t. At all.”
He looked genuinely confused. “I saved your life after you jumped out of a window. You nearly bled to death. You should be happy.”
“I never asked you to save me,” I snapped, feeling sick for the thousandth time. “I asked you to leave me there to die, remember?”
He shook his head, got up and left the room. I slammed the door behind him with a satisfying crash.
I took a deep breath and looked around my new cage. It sure was pretty, but it was still essentially a cage. The only things missing were a length of chain hanging from the ceiling and a dead girl in the corner.
You know, I like you. I might just keep you after Caleb’s finished.
I pressed my palms to my burning cheeks and wondered what the hell could possibly happen next.
Sam stood in the doorway that led from the bedroom to the bathroom, but I could tell he didn’t want to come any closer. I had the distinct feeling it was because I was a girl, and that made me wonder. Ryan didn’t care about my personal space. I was surprised he cared for me at all, after the things he’d said and done back in Mexico.
“You’re a doctor,” I said, turning to him. “How did I lose a massive vampire bite?”
Sam frowned. “How long since you Turned?”
“Since I was Turned,” I corrected him. “You’re implying that I did this to myself. Quite the opposite. I expressly asked that this not be done.” As I heard myself talking, I realized that I sounded like an entitled little bitch, but I was beyond caring.
Sam blinked. “Right. How long since you were Turned?”
“I don’t know,” I answered quietly. “A few days? Less than a week. I don’t remember a lot of it.”
“Well, the good news is you’re not going insane,” Sam said, obviously trying to lighten the mood. “Vampirity is caused by a virus. It attaches itself to your DNA, makes its way into every cell in your body, and takes over. Vampires can heal from a wound in a matter of minutes. Have you attacked anyone yet?”
“What?” I looked at him incredulously. “No. Ew! Why?”
He shook his head, seemingly pleased. “It’s just ... you seem remarkably lucid for a newly infected vampire.”
“Remarkably lucid?” I echoed. “All I’ve done for the past few days is throw up, cry and bleed.”
“Thank God for that,” Sam replied. “Usually, vampires spend their first few weeks – or months – attacking everyone and everything they can.”
I cast a sidelong glance at the broken lamp and overturned bedside table in the corner and tried to appear calm and generally non–violent. “Is that what you did when you were Turned?”
He paled. He looked like an injured puppy dog.
“Sorry,” I apologized. “It’s none of my business.”
He just searched my face, as if looking for the answer to a question I didn’t know.
This is awkward.
“That’s what all vampires do,” he said quietly. “The bloodlust, it’s quite horrific.”
“Bloodlust?” I echoed. “Like being hungry?”
He stared at me like I was a freak. I shifted uncomfortably under the weight of his eyes.
“Like being a homicidal maniac,” he said, “with zero impulse control.”
“Oh,” was all I could think to say.
Goodreads Author Page:
Jessica Roscoe is the author of Wombstone, a Young Adult paranormal novel. From a young age, she delighted in the written word and would often scare her poor parents with outlandish stories filled with the supernatural and macabre. Jessica studied film and screenwriting at university before deciding that novels were her calling. The setting for Wombstone was inspired by a six-month stint in the U.S. where she worked as a lifeguard at a summer camp in Mt Freedom, New Jersey. She is currently working on the next book in the Vampireland series. Her other loves in life include good quality tea, delicious wine, reading and hanging out with her husband and baby girl.