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Book Review: Sanctuary

Erin Penn

Book Cover from Amazon

Sanctuary (Shifter Chronicles #1) by Melle Amade

BOOK BLURB ON AMAZON

Shae is sure the icy rage that claws at her is driving away her friends and pulling her closer to the wrong boy. After all, it’s Aiden she has always secretly wanted, not Callum, who has barely spoken to her in the last year.

But, as her protected life unravels, she discovers the violent supernatural world that lurks in her quiet hometown and the ancient feuds that threaten to destroy both her friends and her family. 

To save those she loves, Shae must succumb to her own fury and take on the Ravensgaard, the renegade warriors of the Order, but as the battle approaches her deepest fears are coming true, she’s becoming just like them. Shae’s not sure she can afford the price she’ll have to pay—her own humanity.

 

MY REVIEW

“That Moment When” was an anthology of sample chapters, available for free to encourage people to try new authors, and included the first three chapters of Sanctuary. I was intrigued enough to look at the Amazon sample which went all the way to a portion of chapter 5. And the next thing I knew I had bought the book at around midnight and completed it at 5:30 am. Good thing we just had a wicked snowfall and no work was happening.

An excellent Young Adult (YA) Urban Fantasy (UF) shifter story, with layers of worldbuilding and unique characters leading to a unique story even with the comfortable tropes of YAUF like two love interests for the main female character (MC), who are also loyal to each other as well as interested in the same girl.

If the story wasn’t a shifter story, the heart of it would be about dealing with genetic mental illness. The MC’s mom has rage issue and Shae and the rest of her family (dad and little brother) have spent their lives tip-toeing around the mother – dealing with things thrown at them and mild physical abuse. The mother does try to control her issues and isolates herself from those she loves most. Now Shae (the MC) is starting to have the same problems, destroying her room in her rages. She doesn’t want to be like her mother.

Another part of what made this book amazing is actually obeying the typical Urban Fantasy trope of information about the magical world (in this case shifters) is not shared with those outside the community on pain of death. In most urban fantasies, YA and adult, the new person is told everything flat out within a couple of chapters – a great way for an author to explain the Urban Fantasy world and rules. Some stories I just shake my head level of sharing of information between the teenagers wondering how the world-at-large could possible still be out of the loop. 

In Sanctuary, Shae’s group of friends are all shifters and despite being close friends with her for their teenage years, they have told her nothing. The secret is only revealed during a life and death situation and then her friends try to convince her what she saw isn’t real. They very reluctantly and slowly reveal their world to her, knowing each reveal makes her and their deaths at the hands of the shifter authorities that more likely. In this story I truly believe the secret of shifters is secret. I gave the book an extra star based on this alone, since it is so rare in the genre.

The final worldbuilding bonus beyond no vampires or werewolf shifters (which is explained and really cool and unique – the bat and wolf shifters were part of the good guys – and I love the back story for the (typical trope) shifter war), is the biggest bad shifter no one wants to deal with is a  frog. A FROG! A fight is going down – feather and fur flying. The hundreds-of-year-old wizard shifter, the shifter teenagers have come to, has wiped the floor with them and is about to kill their human friend when the Frog, in human form, just calmly steps between the claw-and-teeth dervish and the human. The dervish immediately stops. That is just bad-a@@. You will have to read to find out why a frog is so dangerous no one will dare touch him in combat. .. And Ms. Amade, I want to to see the frog end up with a love interest or maybe a story centered around him and not just because of “diversity”; the character is a total sweetheart.

I also loved the fact the characters were typical teenagers. They made good choices, they made bad choices. They made choices based off of emotion, what they were taught, and intellect. They obeyed the rules as much as they broke them. They loved their families and hated them. None of them knew where the others stood all the time, because even they didn’t know. They gossiped, lied, exaggerated, told the truth, and were amazingly loyal while also ruled by hormones. Throughout the story, a reader loves the characters and sometimes dislikes them. All the teenagers are strong, unique people.

In conclusion, amazing characters, a cool backstory about the shifter war, and the comfortable tropes and tropes turned on end, make Sanctuary a must-read if you love YA Urban Fantasy of the shifter variety.

Flash: Zombie Stench

Erin Penn

Image courtesy of FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Rating: Mature (language)

“Oh … god,” Dick moaned doubling over.

Vinny turned back to look for a second before continuing his visual sweep of the mall. “You okay, man?”

“You didn’t get bit or anything?” Sandi frowned. It was just the three of them now and she hated to have to shoot another friend. The guys were too squeamish, so executions fell to her.

“No, not bit.” Dick panted rapidly a few times before straightening enough to lean against the wall. “God, I shouldn’t have had those chili dogs.”

“First fresh food in days and you complain.” Sandi growled, checking the ammo levels in her pistols during the lull. She frowned before stuffing a couple bullets into her revolver; she didn’t remember firing it. “Whine, whine, whine.”

“This after screaming like a girl?” Dick snapped back.

“The zombie grabbed my boob, before I blew out his brains.” Satisfied everything was fully loaded, Sandi did one last tap check to verify everything was in place before bringing her carbine to ready. “Had to have been a mother-fucking perve in life. First one to go for the double Ds, most go for limbs.”

Vinny went over to his neighbor, running an eye over Dick. Leather jacket was covered in gore; black gloves, heavy jeans, and work boots they picked up yesterday were far from new now. Dick’s face was sweaty and pale, but his lips didn’t have the crusting.

“Vinny, I’m going to need more ammo soon.” Sandi reported as she took over the visual sweep.

Vincent served as the group’s de facto leader since Warren bit it, bit it in more ways than one. A loss since he was the only one in the neighborhood who had been in the military; sure he got kicked out of boot camp on a medical, but at least he walked them through basic weapon training and opened up his armory. Warren had really, really wanted to be part of the military. Vincent was a little shocked by how much fire-power had been located in his little suburban cul-de-sac.

Satisfied Dick would live — and not turn around and kill them — Vincent said. “Granger Mountain replaced the Macy’s a few months back. It’s on the west end.”

Sandi frowned; it was rapidly becoming the day-care worker’s natural expression. “That’s past the food court. If any zombies made it in, …”

“I know.” Vincent’s voice cracked with exhaustion.

Vincent and Dick joined Sandi at the pillar in front of the Hello Kitty store. It had been prime real estate, located at the juncture between an entrance and the main hall of the two-story mall. Across the way was a Barnes and Noble. Looking down the hall, the group could see the retail excess of mostly useless clothes.

They had debated retreating to the mall once their neighborhood had been overrun. They needed a place with supplies. The Super-Walmart was the best choice, if they hadn’t run into horde after horde. Seemed like Wally World was the store of choice for mindless zombies.

 The mall had an ethnic food market and an Aldi. The zombies would have eaten all the easily accessible food, if they were around, but the canned goods would be intact.

Taking the left side, a natural preference since he was left-handed, Vinny announced, “Clear.”

Sandi verified the right side. “Clear.”

“Dick, you know the way?”

“With three teenage daughters? The mall’s a second home.”  Dick moved into point, following the established pattern. As the oldest, and most out-of-shape, of the remaining group, they liked him to set the pace. He was also, surprisingly, the most accurate shot. After Warren and Cass … left … the sniper rifle fell to him.

Manikins moved in the shadows as they quick marched down through the unnaturally empty space. Other than their booted steps, the only sounds echoing were the high-pitched hum of lights and the motorized rumble of the escalator. Grimacing, Richard ran up the ramp between the half-levels. One fight on a staircase had been enough for a lifetime.

Shortly thereafter, the grand hall widened into the food court and, for the first time since entering the mall, sounds of human movement could be heard. They ducked into a short hall immediately before the food court. Sandi, the smallest and most agile of them, poked around the corner while Dick and Vinny checked the narrow passage.

“Fifteen or so, but they are at the McDonalds. Half of them in uniform,” Sandi whispered.

Vinny nodded. They had seen similar grouping behavior. “Most likely with whatever functions as their minds, they chose a familiar place.”

Sandi pulled back completely into the corridor. “If they are in a safe place, they won’t react as fast. We could blow by them quickly.”

“Good plan. Let’s move on three. One … Two …”

“Where the hell are you going Dick?” Sandi hissed through the count.

Dick continued walking down the hall. “I’ve pissed myself twice, damn if I am going to shit myself.”

Vinny turned to see Dick pushing open a door. “What the hell ARE you doing?”

“Taking a god-damn bathroom break.”

Vinny and Sandi stared at each other in shock after Dick disappeared into the restroom.

“Aberrant behavior.” Sandi muttered.

Vinny shook his head. “Usually aggressive, not stupid like this.”

“He has lost it.”

Vinny looked sadly down the mall’s utility passageway; crazy they didn’t need. “Agreed. So on three?”

They broke out, Sandi’s carbine and Vinny’s submachine gun shooting short bursts, running flat out for once, without Dick slowing them down. Turns out Sandi’s visual assessment was accurate, at least as far as she could see. The steakhouse tucked against the food court’s side, around the corner and invisible from the restroom alley, held a much larger group.

The multitude, many having name tags declaring a store and a no longer viable name, flooded the area. Even with the generous use of fire power destroying bodies and with zombies being distracted by the fresh meat, the two were unable to continue. As Vinny slammed in his last magazine, through unspoken agreement, the couple retreated to the last defendable position.

The zombies followed, through no more than two abreast could fit past the public phone. A few bounced off the wall mount, unable to process why they could go no further.

They needed another gun to get out. Vinny and Sandi pushed open the men’s room door.

“Oh shit! What is that?!?” Sandi said, covering her burning nose.

Vinny nearly puked. He had several days of zombie gore on him, and he never smelled anything this vile. The small room reeked.

“Nearly done guys,” came Dick’s bass from second stall. Farting and sounds of something half liquid being ejected followed. The sound was horrifyingly similar to the sound of Cass using the sledge hammer on zombies.

Speaking of zombies, a swinging door is not much of an obstacle, once the zombies knew it was a door. They followed, like the never-stopping horde of mindless creatures they were, they followed.

And stopped.

Mindless does not mean without senses.

Zombies actually have a very good sense of smell.

The zombies gagged.

Not something anyone would want to see, and REALLY not something anyone wanted to hear.

Then the zombies retreated.

Vinny froze in shock.

Sounds of Dick pulling up his jeans filled the silent tiled room.

Sandi yelled. “Dick, whatever you do – DO NOT FLUSH!!!!”

“Sandi, what the fuck are you doing in here?” Dick stepped out of the stall.

Vinny turned on the woman of the group, “And why not flush that putrid shit from hell? We are going to be stuck here for a while.”

Sandi, the bounding twenty-something, curvy, beautiful, perky, relentless blonde, the one which had driven all men nuts during the neighborhood block pool parties in her infinitesimal bikini, the only female to survive the five grueling days and nights since the first zombies came visiting, grabbed Dick by the ears, pulled down him down, and kissed him thoroughly on the lips.

“I love you!” she declared, releasing him. “You get chili dogs FOREVER.”

After that she laid down and curled around her carbine like a teddy bear.

Vinny and Dick stared at her. She, their mascot, their backbone, had gone mad.

Sandi cracked open an eye. “The zombies can’t stand the stench. They don’t understand things change. They are going to wait until we come out.”

The two men heads shook slightly side-to-side trying to follow her reasoning.

“Dudes, we can sleep.”

(words 1,417 – first published 9/17/2013, republished new blog format 7/1/2018)

Other Cool Blogs: Tor Feb/Mar 2017

Erin Penn

Image courtesy of toonsteb at FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Costume and Story

Last year I attended a panel on costume in writing. Being one of two audience members, matching the two speakers, we had a lively round-robin discussion. (Sometimes smaller is better.) The panelists were steampunk writers; few other genres are as clothing driven as steampunk. But we ranged from the uniforms of the David Weber‘s science-fiction Manitcore Navy to the shawls of Robert Jordan‘s fantasy used to represent Ajah alliances. Clothing provides meaning, layering. World history. 

And sometimes clothing defines the character.

Tor, publisher of science fiction and fantasy, asks their authors to provide posts on occasion for their website. Sarah Gailey provided one on Storytelling through Costume. She stuck with the visual mediums of television and movies, but the ideas are sound for writing as well.

Iconic SFF Costumes: Storytelling through Costumes

The Allure of the Red Dress

The Woman in White

The Badass Black Tank Top Walks the Line 

While I am well familiar with the Red Dress and the Woman in White tropes, I hadn’t run into the Black Tank Top before. Very illuminating on finding a balance between the strong woman and the vulnerable woman, a person of competence and an object of objectification.

WRITING EXERCISE: Define a character through his or her costume.

***

In Honestly, during Chapter Four, Kassandra has the following observation of Troy:

Today, Troy had on his normal button down long sleeve shirt with collar paired with a set of slacks. Only the top button was unbuttoned, transforming a nerd look into sleek male. Was he brown all over, or did his father’s inheritance make him paler where the sun doesn’t shine? A golden yellow shirt and the forest green pants prevented her from finding out immediately. How he would tolerate what she was coming to think as his uniform once summer truly began, she had no idea. May first just past and the temperatures outside were peaking in the high eighties every day.

Troy’s formality shows through in his clothing choices, as well as the wish to hide the scars on his body and soul, but a hint of opening in his armor shows with the single button unbuttoned. As the story progresses, less of his body is covered and his clothing gets more informal but never completely informal or poorly maintained (wrinkled or torn).

Note the long clothing description did not occur until well into the story (chapter four), when the reader is committed to the story. The scene served two purposes: character development for Troy and hint at the emotional evolution of Kassandra who both admired him sexually and delved deeper into who he was as a person.

Writing Exercise: Out-Of-Alignment

Erin Penn

Alignment by Pajamas
Acquired from the Internet Hivemind

WRITING EXERCISE: Today’s writing exercise comes in two parts. First write a scene, a hundred to two hundred words, nothing long. Should have a Point-of-View character (POV); may have other characters as well. Second, redo the scene by changing the POV character’s alignment. Define the old alignment, and then state the new alignment being attempted. Have the scene remain the same as possible, only change the motives and what the reader sees through POV character.

How does the morality/ethical code of the character change how the story unfolds? How important is the internal mindset of the POV to how the story unfolds? How hard is it for the other characters of the scene to judge the character’s intentions?

Alignments are a concept from Dungeons and Dragons and other roleplaying games. They help form a character’s personality for non-actors playing in the game. Lawful good are goody-goody while chaotic evil are psychotic. If you are not familiar with the concept or want to try something outside your comfort zone, change the basic moral code of the POV character. For example: will do anything for money; refuses to do actions to upset people; will only act in a legal manner; just don’t make me dress up; etc.

***

My Attempt – Text Flash: Dream Dancing

Chaotic Good Version

I don’t like the room, a tight classroom where the girl-woman-child-female is compressed into a desk, the tabletop pressing her knees into her body and her neck and arms constrained. The blackboard screeches as chalk writes a dozen formulas, while an overhead projector burns like the sun, flashing words slightly out of focus and too fast to read on a white board covered with half-erased scribbles. All the other children in the classroom are much smaller, middle-school age and chatting up a storm, making the sole adult at the front – a faceless being – inaudible in the din.

Slipping into the dream, I sweep all of the distractions away, expanding the desk so the woman full-grown is behind a business desk. As she relaxes, I change the scene once again so the overhead light becomes a disco ball, and the woman is at a table next to a dance floor. My hand is nut brown against her pale skin as she accepts and joins me on the dance floor. 

Her head tilts up, smiling in confidence as we dance around the dream room. My suit and her flowing gown touching only around the legs and at the wrists. Her alarm interrupts the dream just as I had been leaning down. Outside the window, behind a screen, I watch her fall back onto her pillows and scream in frustration. She isn’t alone, but this is the first night of many. (words 240)

***

Lawful Evil Version

The dream room of the woman doesn’t suit my purposes. The tight classroom twists in from all directions, compressing the female a school desk with the tabletop pressing her knees into her body and her neck and arms constrained. Across from her, the blackboard screeches as chalk writes a dozen formulas, while an overhead projector burns like the sun, flashing words slightly out of focus and too fast to read on a white board covered with half-erased scribbles. All the other children in the classroom are much smaller, middle-school age, and chatting up a storm, making the sole adult at the front – a faceless being – inaudible in the din.

Slipping into the dream, I sweep all of the distractions away, expanding the desk so the adult woman has a moment is behind a business desk, unlike her day-job but something she aspires to. Before she fully relaxes, I change the scene  again modifying the overhead light into a disco ball, and the woman sits at a table next to a dance floor. My hand is nut brown against her pale skin as she accepts and joins me on the dance floor. 

Her head tilts up, smiling in confidence as I lead her around the dream room. My suit and her flowing gown touching only around the legs and at the wrists. Her alarm interrupts the dream just as I had been leaning down. Timing is everything after all. Outside the window, behind a screen, I watch her fall back onto her pillows and scream in frustration. She isn’t alone, but this is the first night of many. (words 269)

Flash: Climate Clashes

Erin Penn

Image provided by the internet hive mind through fakeposters.com

Thunder snow woke her. “Do you have to be so noisy?” Lynnsie muttered.

“Usually.”

The deep male voice startled the older woman, making her shift the blanket snow had tucked around her before the children continued on their way. She blinked against the dark afternoon, making out large form at the bottom of her steps. “Ah, it’s you.”

“Expecting anyone else today?” The man brushed the light snow coating the handrails with one gloved hand. Behind him, the winter storm clouds boiled high, driving sleet and wet snow into the man’s back and making her one-lane road impassible.

“Not hardly.” Lynnsie moved the cover from around her shoulders to her lap. Seeing the other about to take her steps, she attempted to stand, “You might want to stay there.”

“You should know by now, I never stay where you want, old woman.” He took the steps, and the glaze left behind by ice promptly removed his feet from the painted wood. He fell heavily on the crust the winter storm built on her lawn.

“I was going to get salt.”

The black-hair man growled as he got his hands and feet beneath him, the wet damaging his expensive leather gloves and boots.

Lynnsie sat back down. “But, since you haven’t learned manners yet, I think I will let things go.”

“It’s not your world anymore,” the man said pushing himself vertical. “Things are changing. Manners don’t matter anymore than controlling the worst weather can bring. Everyone safe inside their sealed homes.” This time he took the stairs with caution.

“Sealed homes won’t help against the worst weather can bring.” Lynnsie smiled sadly, watching the man approach, feet sliding, pushing little mounds of white fluff left when snow had tucked her in. The sleet joined him on the porch, crusting the fluff and creating icicles on the eaves of the house. “Our mother’s nature is as big as life and death, and four walls and a roof won’t hold her back when she starts tossing fits because you and those like you lack manners.”

“Manners.” he sneered snapping the longest icicle off, a good eight-inch point, thick enough for him to hold firmly.

“Yes, manners,” she responded firmly. “Helping out in the house. Taking care of your neighbors. Asking before using things. Putting things back. Keeping things clean. Don’t waste food and resources, like leaving the water running so there is no heat for showers. Saying please and thank you.”

“Okay, let me try it out.” The man pierce Lynnsie with the dagger of frozen water. “Thank you for not running.”

“Good boy. There might be hooo…” The light left the old woman’s eyes.

“Hmm. That wasn’t so bad.” The man wiped the lingering frost from his gloves before pulling out the list. “Who’s left to remove?”

The wind tried to tear the list from his fingers for a look, until he batted the gossip back. He didn’t need the others to be warned. If climate change was going to take, the other keepers of the old ways needed to be removed. He sucked in the frozen air and sleet, feeling the coal smog lacing the wet, giving him strength. Only four more to go before the see-saw of extreme weather would become permanent. He stepped off the porch into the driving thunder and sleet storm, disappearing from view.

(Words 558; First published 6/24/2018)