This has been an excellent week for getting words down. I’ve got three stories I’m working on right now and I’m making some serious progress on all of them. Gone on Arrival, Rowan, and a new one called Grave Designs that’s set in the same world as Ashes to Ashes but will be a stand-alone just like Ashes is.
The incredible Lizzie Dunlap is my go-to cover artist and she did the cover for Grave Designs and then updated the Ashes covers so they are more cohesive.
Here’s a little taste of Grave Designs:
Mick loved the art of death. It was an art he’d been practicing for nearly two decades now and at thirty-two, he felt he’d finally mastered his gifts. It was a belief of his that his early days of small animals and neighborhood pets had been like the training wheels he once had on his bicycle.
He turned the page and let his fingertips trace the edge of the photo. A mother, father, and two children posed in front of a cabin in a field of pines with snow all around. They looked happy, their winter gear dusted with snow and a lopsided snowman between the boy and girl. That had been such a good weekend – for him.
He turned the page and made a soft sound of pleasure. The photo was a posed portrait of a young couple, her left hand pressed lightly to his chest where a beautiful ring glinted in the light. The man had dark hair and eyes and tanned skin while the woman was all peaches and cream with thick blonde hair and light brown eyes. Mick had kept a lock of her hair for a while, but eventually he tossed it into the river. The ring had been pawned in Los Angeles the last time he’d been on the west coast. He did love to keep mementos, but it wasn’t smart to hold on to them forever.
Mick found such beauty in the way a blade moved through flesh, in the sounds of pain through parted lips, but most importantly, he savored the way the light faded from his subject’s eyes as life fled. Like any artist, he studied his craft, tried different methods and mediums, and traveled to attain the best materials for his work.
In fact, it was time for him to get on the road. He closed the leather-bound book and slid volume three into place, then checked that all five volumes were neatly aligned before he turned to go. The mountains were calling.
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