The Source is hunting Talents… but Kara Jester is no distressed damsel...
Split
The Price of
Talent Book 1
by AK Nevermore
Genre: Spicy
Dystopian SciFi Romance
On an alternate earth, a cataclysm has altered a subset of the population. Talents are persecuted for their psychic and physical mutations, giving rise to two conflicting societies based upon maintaining genetic purity. And the Source, a shadowy corporate entity dependent upon the exploitation of captive Talents, is hunting them…
The city of Glynfyls is burning.
And Flynn Scot is powerless to stop it. Now that his status
is in question, the Assembly is calling for his head. The only thing keeping it
on his shoulders is the commons rioting with the demand he be made Overlord.
Fluctuating between extremes, Kara’s talent deficiency is
becoming critical.
With her body failing and Flynn at the Assembly’s mercy,
Kara Scot has no choice but to take his seat and fight for her House. But
clearing Flynn’s name and battering herself against the tide of public censure
threatens to drag her under.
So does the wave of Humanity Purists marching toward
Glynfyls.
No Talent is safe outside the city. Refugees flock to the
north fleeing extermination only to find a metropolis torn by prejudice and
fear. Unless Flynn and Kara can find a way to survive the machinations of the
Assembly, there will be nothing standing between them and annihilation. Because
even if they survive the extremists, Titus’s army is following in their wake
ready to harvest whatever is left.
Glynfyls
was burning.
Flynn
stared out the window of the Assembly Hall, overlooking the eastern spokes of
the city. Beyond the wavy glass, the rising sun was a crimson smear across the
smoke-streaked horizon. Below, the clamor of an angry mob rioted through the
streets.
They
were pissed.
How
the hell a cluster fuck of this magnitude had gotten kicked off last night—he
scrubbed at his face. Shit. He knew exactly how.
His
hand rose and talent the color of old blood flickered between his fingers,
sparking off and singeing the carpet. He scuffed it out with his boot, jaw
clenching. After the past few weeks of trying to play the goddamned part, he’d
fucking split when he put Riegel down and, caught in a catch
twenty-fucking-two, the entire city had seen him do it.
But
if he hadn’t,
the boost the Breaker was rigged with would’ve blown Glynfyls to shit. Flynn
sighed. Instead of the city, everything he’d worked for had gone with Riegel into
the hereafter. Christ, Julia and Lord Morris must be having a fucking field day
with this. Both of them would be in chambers now, smug as shit, lambasting the
room with big fat I-told-you-so’s…
God,
he was gonna puke. Dual-Talents couldn’t hold office, and he’d
used both a Shade’s talent to phaze away the blast, and
a shit ton of Breaker ability, publicly. He’d saved the city only to hand it over
to Julia, and she’d pass it right on to Titus.
His
eyes closed, seeing it all play out. Legally, he was screwed. The Shades were
gonna abjure him from his seat on the Assembly. Lords Klein and Ketsing, the
Fixer and Binder Firsts that’d pledged their line’s
fealty to him, would pull their support. Then Crandall would bury him. He’s
gleefully drive the last nail into Flynn’s coffin by tying him to the Sons that’d
been slaughtered out on the plateau.
And
as for Phyllis and Markham? Neither one of them was gonna do a fucking thing.
No, check that. Markham would mop the sweat from his brow when they came at
Flynn with a rope to hang him. Couple of minutes swinging, then done deal,
Flynn’d
be in a box and they’d be back to business as usual.
Until
Titus sent in his troops and Peacekeepers harvested the lot of them.
“I
wish I was a fucking twist, then I wouldn’t have to
pretend…”
Of
all the wishes he’d ever made, it figured that would be the
one granted. God had to love fucking with him.
Kara
pushed up under his arm. “We
can tell them it was me—”
“No.
I won’t
lie about it.” They’d gone over this. If Merchant couldn’t
get him off, he’d cloak them at Meddleton until the
baby was born, then head west. Disappear. He’d done it before, he could do it
again. He kissed the top of Kara’s head, wrapping his arms around her.
“You
should try and sleep.”
She
laughed, the strain of the past twenty-four hours etched across her brow. Once
the adrenaline from the bout last night at the Pony had faded, Riegel’s
death had triggered a cascade of memories. Each one left her more brittle than
the last, and that damned talent debilitation plaguing her pregnancy was back.
Add to it being locked up in this goddamned conference room without any idea of
what was going on other than one hell of a shit show…
Christ.
What a fucking mess.
The
door opened and Merchant hustled in, looking grim. His suit was rumpled and his
grey-streaked hair awry. A servant came in after him and set a coffee service
and two plates of eggs on the conference table. Flynn’s stomach growled. Damn, he could go
for—Kara turned to his chest, pale with nausea. Goddamn it, he needed to get
her home.
“Take
it away, please.”
The
woman looked at him in surprise, then wet her lips, glancing at Merchant. She
pulled a scrap of paper from the napkin, holding it out with trembling fingers,
and flashed her colors. Thin rings of fuchsia pulsed around her irises. It was
the signal Flynn and Dorian had agreed upon for when the Finder had turned
something up on Crandall.
Flynn
took it from her, and she bobbed a curtsy, fist to heart. Vassal to Overlord.
He snorted, like that was gonna fucking happen—his temper spiked at the
contents of the note, and it smoldered where he gripped it. Damn it—His anger
was too close. Too easy to pull from. All this time, is that what that constant
simmering rage had been? Talent just waiting to come out?
“I
suggest you cloak this conversation.” Merchant frowned, tossing a newspaper
onto the table. “They’re
attempting to charge you with inciting the commons.”
Flynn’s
jaw dropped, note forgotten. That’s not—His
halos flared verdigris, cloaking them. “But
they all saw—”
“A
great deal of talent being used. As evidenced by that front page still and
multiple reels. You haven’t developed concentric halos. By
definition, a twist evidences a dual-halo, and without a second ring around
your irises, you cannot be considered as such. Additionally, without
confirmation from the Breaker line as to whom was doing what, any and all charges
are unsubstantiated, and will be treated as libel and or slander. Now, I
suggest we focus on the matter at hand.” He snapped open his briefcase.
“The
matter at—are you serious?” He—there was no way—how was this not about him
splitting? Was Merchant seriously getting him off on semantics? Shit, Cal had
said he was good, but no one could be that good.
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Book
Trailer:
**Don’t
miss the other books in the series!**
Breaker
The Price of
Talent Book 1
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* Goodreads
Binder
The Price of
Talent Book 2
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Breeder FREE!!**
https://aknevermore.com/books/breaker/breeder/
About the Author
AK Nevermore
enjoys operating heavy machinery, freebases coffee, and gives up sarcasm for
Lent every year. A Jane-of-all-trades, she’s a certified chef, restores
antiques, and dabbles in beekeeping when she’s not reading voraciously or
running down the dream in her beat-up camo Chucks.
Unable to ignore
the voices in her head, and unwilling to become medicated, she writes Science
Fiction and Fantasy full time.
She pays the
bills editing, wielding a wicked hot pink pen and writing a column on SFF. She
also belongs to the Authors Guild, is a chapter treasurer for the RWA, teaches
creative writing, and on the rare occasion, sleeps.
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Website: https://aknevermore.com
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/AkNevermore
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The cover art looks great. Sounds like an interesting story.
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