Hi Everyone!
Happy Monday! I am excited to be here to share with you another blog tour-this time for New Charity Blues! Here is a short description and excerpt from the book!
ABOUT NEW CHARITY BLUE:
In
the wake of a devastating plague, two communities emerge as bastions of
survival. One is called the City, and its people scrabble for scraps in
the wasteland. The other, New Charity, enjoys the bounty of its
hydroelectric dam and refuses City denizens so much as a drop of
precious water. When City-dweller Cressyda inherits her father’s ranch
within New Charity, she becomes intent on opening the dam to all—no
matter the cost.
But when Syd reunites with her old best friend,
Casandra, a born seer and religious acolyte, she realizes that her plans
could destroy the fragile lives they’ve built in order to survive.
What’s more, the strange magic securing the dam’s operations could prove
deadly if disturbed. Yet when Syd discovers evidence that her father
might have been murdered, she is more determined than ever to exact
revenge on New Charity’s corrupt.
Pitted against Cas, as well as
her own family, Syd must decide how to secure the survival of both
settlements without tipping them over the brink to utter annihilation.
In this intense and emotional reimagining of the Trojan War epic, two
women clash when loyalty, identity, community, and family are all put to
the ultimate test.
***************************************
Chapter
Two
Cas
On the day
the quiet war came to New Charity, my brother and I were out checking fences.
I was high
up in Windy’s saddle, looking out over the ridge, wondering if anyone on the
west side of the wall beyond was looking my direction and if they, too, were
marveling at the big and beautiful world the Spirit had given us.
This had
once been sparse land, but our people had always inhabited this place, made do
on the same dusty soil, aided by the four elemental magics. Mama’s and the
Governor’s families had lived and died in New Charity before us. They built the
wall around the town and renovated the Sanctuary in order to thank the Spirit
of the land, the one that sanctified our crops and blew the breath into the
prized New Charitan horses we raised, and took care of our town and the towns
that spread across the prairie from coast to coast.
Five years
ago, when the plague spread outside the wall and the sick sought shelter, New
Charity was forced to close the gates for our own protection. And after, the
Bishop called on the Spirit and it gave us the Blessing.
The people
of New Charity offered up their magic to the Spirit, and the Bishop channeled
that power to form a reservoir, one that purified the water and stopped the
poisoned river from flowing to the City downstream. And afterwards, our own
streams filled and middling crops grew tall as the Spirit blessed the land, too.
The Spirit blessed the horses we rode and the stock we raised. Folks could
graze their cattle on land that was once scrub. Future generations would no
longer carry the old magics, but we were safe. And alive.
It was
impossible to deny we were special to the Spirit. All we had to do was look out
on the once-brown hills, now emerald with prairie grasses. The Governor, my
father, said he wished his own father could see it.
That
afternoon, I tried to take a picture in my head of all the wide wild world. And
that was when a vision started to come, bleeding inwards on the edge of my
mind.
I’d barely
had time to register the vision when Windy let out an alarmed whinny, bucked
hard, and suddenly I was up close and personal with those grasses I’d been studying.
I somersaulted from my saddle and landed facedown on the ground. Len, who’d
more likely than not spooked Windy on purpose, clutched his stomach, shaking
with laughter. “You should see your face!”
He cantered
his stallion in a circle around us as I wiped away the tears on my cheeks --
more from wind and hay fever than pain – and my fists came away muddy. “I don’t
see what’s so funny about it.” I dusted my knees and elbows, picking a few
small rocks from my palm. “My face’s the same as yours. “
Mama always
said Len and I were mirror images, though I’d argue that at least for the first
decade or so my twin always managed to acquire an extra layer of dirt.
Regardless,
we looked the same before, during, and after a vision. Probably before, during,
and after being dumped by our horses, too.
My
great-grandma – the Governor’s grandma – was the last prophetess in the
Sanctuary, until Len and I came into our powers early. The famed two-for-one
Acolytes of the Willis family. Also the only New Charitans not asked to sacrifice
our gifts. Our responsibility was bigger. We searched the future with our
Foresight for things to come – the bad and the good. We counseled the parishioners,
tempering dashed hopes and offering glimpses of a better tomorrow. We were
beacons for their boats of dreams drifting in the sea of the unknown. We were
capable and earnest in good news, sympathetic and kind when tidings were bad.
Which I
guess was a good thing since I was a disaster at just about everything besides
shoveling manure. I couldn’t have disappointed Mama more if I’d come out with
three arms and a set of antlers.
I led Windy
around in a tight circle a few times to calm her down, then mounted back up.
Len began to hiccup.
“Serves you
right.” I nudged Windy into a trot. “Last one to the barn mucks stalls!”
“No
contest. Your mare’s eaten so many hay bales she’s practically the shape of
one.”
“Are you
calling my horse fat?”
“Hey, if
the horseshoe fits.” He kicked his horse into a gallop.
Even though
we shouldn’t have, Len and I let the horses run home, giddy on speed as the
ridge flattened into prairie. When their fetlocks collides with the warm
sagebrush, it was what I imagined heaven smelled like—juniper and the warming
soil of early summer.
It was the
last time things were simple. After dinner we began inadvertently choosing
sides in a battle our Foresight had not warned us of.
The quiet
war came almost silently. But all the same, it came.
************************************************
ABOUT CAMILLE GRIEP:
Camille
Griep lives just north of Seattle with her partner, Adam, and their dog
Dutch(ess). Born in Billings, Montana, she moved to Southern California
to attend Claremont McKenna College, graduating with a dual degree in
Biology and Literature.
She
wrote her way through corporate careers in marketing, commercial real
estate, and financial analysis before taking an extended sabbatical to
devote more time to her craft.
She has since sold short fiction and creative nonfiction to dozens of online and print magazines. She is the editor of Easy Street and is a senior editor at The Lascaux Review. She is a 2012 graduate of Viable Paradise, a residential workshop for speculative fiction novelists.
Her first novel, Letters to Zell, was released in July 2015 47North. Look for New Charity Blues in April of 2016.
Happy Reading!
