Take a peek at the beginning of Shéa MacLeod’s Fearless, the first in her Soulshifter Trilogy.
“I hated this life I’d found myself in and yet I had no choice but to carry on living it. Lost. Confused. Alone. Forever separated from my own kind.”
Murdered at the hands of her king and former lover, Zip finds herself stripped of nearly all her powers and trapped inside the mortal body of a teenager. She finally knows what it is to be human, but it might be the last thing she wants. Especially with a killer stalking the halls…
“Swallowing hard, I held his gaze. I wasn’t sure if I was daring him or defying him. Maybe both.”
Mick Egan is determined to make his life count for something. Getting clean was one thing. Discovering the secrets of a girl like Zip is another. If he was smart, he’d run like hell, except he’s not about to leave her alone to face a murderer.
Ms. Higgins slid a copy of Bram Stoker’s Dracula onto the shelf and heaved a sigh. Finally. She could go home. It was late and it had been one of those days. Sometimes she wondered what had possessed her to become a high school librarian.
Smoothing a wayward strand of gray hair back where it belonged, she made her way carefully through the deep shadows cast by the stacks. Most people would have left all the overhead lights on instead of just the ones at the front, but Ms. Higgins was not most people. No sense in wasting energy. She didn’t need that much light to work. She knew where every book went. After all, she’d been at this for nearly forty years.
Her sensible heels suddenly slid out from under her. Arms flailing, she shrieked as she collapsed in a heap on the ground, face pressed to the rough carpet. Her wrist gave a painful twinge. That was all she needed: an injury right before she planned to paint her dining room.
Ms. Higgins started to get up, but something under her cheek was wet and slippery. Sitting up cautiously, she frowned as she swiped her hand at the wetness on her face. As she stared at dark stuff coating her hand, the coppery tang finally registered: blood.
Scrambling to her feet, she slid again, this time careening sideways and landing on somebody’s lap. A very dead somebody. Ms. Higgins opened her mouth and screamed and screamed and screamed.
“Please, please, please let me be me.”
I stood in front of the bathroom mirror, eyes squeezed shut, as I’d done every morning since that cold February day a couple months ago. I clenched my fists at my sides willing today to be different. Taking a deep breath I opened my eyes.
“Abigail Evangeline Roberts. That is no way for a young lady to talk.” The voice was muffled through the bathroom door, but my aunt’s – or rather her aunt’s – snippy tone was crystal clear.
“Sorry, Aunt Liz,” I called through the door. “Broke a nail.” Yeah. That was a good answer. Humans swore over silly things like broken nails all the time.
Aunt Liz said something about not being late, but I had already tuned her out. I had more important things to worry about than being late to some stupid school. Like the fact that the face staring back at me from the mirror wasn’t mine. Like the fact I was wearing the skin of a dead girl.
Like the fact I was dead. Sort of.