Dear The Writer’s Voice Coaches,
Violence is twenty-four-year-old Faida Zahir’s native tongue. An obedient basilisk soldier, she was bred to protect Fulcrum City’s unsuspecting human population from test-tube beasties created by a rival clan. But when her squad leader assigns her a seemingly routine mission that ends in a confrontation with a human bounty hunter sent by her own people to kill her, her world is flipped on its head. Faida’s done nothing to warrant a hit.
At least, nothing she knows of.
Before she has a chance to dispatch the bounty hunter, Faida is confronted by Tariq, her clan’s irritatingly superior and sexy Executioner. He tells her she’s now number one on their clan’s Most Wanted list for a treasonous crime punishable by death. Tariq believes Faida is being framed and offers his assistance. Faida’s not sure she can trust him, but with limited options and a bull’s-eye on her back, a girl’s got to use all her resources, feminine wiles included.
To prove she’s not a traitor, Faida must follow a trail teeming with medieval torture, toxic sibling rivalries, and a thousand-year-old curse. But as she draws closer to unearthing the truth, Faida uncovers a far more sinister plot than a simple bounty: the real traitor’s endgame is to eliminate the entire basilisk species, and Faida must battle her own clan to stop him.
Complete at 94,000 words, BLOODBIRD is an adult urban fantasy that blends the complex romance of Jenn Bennett’s KINDLING THE MOON and wit and action of Ilona Andrews’ MAGIC BREAKS.
I’m an advertising professional living in Seattle, WA. I spend my days creating strategies for clients, and my nights writing. I’m also a member of RWA, YARWA, and Greater Seattle RWA.
Thank you very much for your time and consideration.
Rachelle E. Morrison
The kill order came through the exact moment the sommelier filled my wine glass. Clearly my superiors delighted in choosing the most inopportune time to assign me a target. Faida might be doing something enjoyable. Let's interrupt her...just in case.
Gazing across the candlelit table at my maybe-boyfriend, Christian, I offered an apologetic smile. The X Squad never sent an order unless it was urgent, and that meant I was about to ruin my second date with Christian this week alone.
I glared at my clutch, the distinct buzz alerting me to the incoming command. My fingers itched to chuck it across the restaurant. All I wanted was a goddamn steak, but apparently that was too much to ask.
Christian sighed. “Just answer it, love. The hospital’s needs are more important than dinner.”
His pleasant demeanor aside—Christian was the most mild-mannered guy I’d ever dated—I knew he was less than thrilled. But who could blame him? I’d lost count of the number of times “the hospital” had interrupted our plans since we’d started seeing each other three months ago.
Several tuxedo-clad servers whisked by carrying plates of sizzling filets and butter-drenched potatoes. My mouth watered. Suppressing a groan, I pulled out my phone.
X SQUAD DISPATCH: 8:51 PM; ERADICATOR 793. TARGET: LANDON STRIKER. SPECIES: VUKO. LOCATION: HADE ST. AND DELGADO PL.
Vile parasites always found a way to ruin a perfectly decent evening.
“Yep, it’s from Dr. Flores,” I lied.