SIREN book review

SIREN by Tricia Rayburn

I can tell you that I was VERY excited to not only receive my first ARC, but for it to be of this book.  (Granted, I got the ARC about the same time you could buy the book, but who's counting?)  The cover is so amazing, I knew I just had to read it.  (And yes, I buy wine that has an attractive label too.)  I wish I could say I was enchanted by the story as I was its cover.

 Here's the plot line:

Seventeen-year-old Vanessa Sands is afraid of everything--the dark, heights, the ocean--but her fearless older sister, Justine, has always been there to coach her through every challenge.  That is until Justine goes cliff diving one night near the family's vacation house in Winter Harbor, Maine, and her lifeless body washes up on shore the next day.

Vanessa's parents want to work through the tragedy by returning to their everyday lives back in Boston, but Vanessa can't help feeling that her sister's death was more than an accident.  After discovering that Justine never applied to colleges, and that she was secretly in a relationship with longtime family friend Caleb Carmichael, Vanessa returns to Winter Harbor to seek some answers.

But when Vanessa learns that Caleb has been missing since Justine's death, she and Caleb's older brother, Simon, join forces to try to find him, and in the process, their childhood friendship blossoms into something more. 
Soon it's not just Vanessa who is afraid.  All of Winter Harbor is abuzz with anxiety when another body washes ashore, and panic sets in when the small town becomes home to a string of fatal, water-related accidents . . . in which all the victims are found grinning from ear to ear. 

As Vanessa and Simon probe further into the connections between Justine's death and the sudden rash of creepy drownings, Vanessa uncovers a secret that threatens her new romance, and that will change her life forever. 

I found the story a little hard to get into; probably about three or four chapters in before it really picked up for me.  I must say though that once it got going, the story really moved along.  It definitely ended up being one of those up-all-night, page-turners.

And just when I thought I was falling in love despite the slow-ish start, there were some logical failings at the end that left me spinning.  ***SPOILER ALERT***  For example, Vanessa thinks she gets headaches because she's "connected" to Zara -- but she's connected to Paige and Raina and Betty the same way as she is to Zara.  Why does she only get headaches around Zara?  And how the heck did Vanessa (or anyone else for that matter) survive being frozen alive?  If you can explain these things to me, I'd appreciate it, because I really wanted to love this book.

Some of the high points were: the fast-moving plot, as I mentioned.  Really three-dimensional characters.  Vanessa and Justine were multi-layered and the reader got to peel away layers like an onion. I loved that.  The romance between Nessa and Simon. Who doesn't love a good romance?

Overall, I still give the book 3 out of 4 coins (a URA* rating) and am really only disappointed because I wanted to like to MORE than that.  I suspect that I'm becoming a very fussy reader.  And yes, Ms. Rayburn, I am waiting on the sequel already...

Friday Flashback: High School Heartache

I apologize in advance of you read this over on my LiveJournal account, but it got people talking there, and I wanted to share it with all of you too.

Imagine from: http://dontdatethatdude.files.wordpress.c

om/2007/12/heartbreak2.jpg

There’s one part if teen angst we probably all remember will acrid clarity: heartbreak. Whether it was unrequited love or the pain of having your heart stomped to pieces and ground into the sidewalk cracks, we’ve all been there. I have one of each, but the second story is far more interesting. (First story: My first high school crush – who I drooled over for about six months – turned out to be gay and I was the only one who couldn't see it coming. The end.)

After getting over crush #1, I fell hard for a junior (I was but a lowly freshman). To protect the names of the not-so-innocent, we’ll call him Donny. Donny was smart, funny, talented, marginally athletic, and liked Classic Rock. We dated for the next two years until he graduated. He told me he’d love me forever and I used to daydream in French class about marrying him in a white gown and carrying red roses. Blood and cream would be my colors. What the hell was wrong with me? Anyway…

When Donny went off to college, we “agreed” to see other people. My first “date” after that was with a guy who had been one of Donny’s friends. We’ll call him Mark. While on this most-platonic of dates ('cause it turns out Mark felt weird about taking out his friend's quasi-girlfriend), Mark lets it slip that Donny wasn’t a model boyfriend one night at a party he attended while I was out of town. Now, I wasn’t necessary shocked by this information since I’d always been jealous of the way this one girl acted around him. But I still called him and left him a teasing message on his dorm answering machine saying I thought he was scum. (He, he, I had such a mature sense of humor.  Clever, witty, subtle.  That's me.)

He calls me back around – oh, must have been roughly 2 am – and proceeds to apologize for cheating on me with some totally different girl.

“OMG! [Except back then I would've actually said the words "Oh my God" because we didn't speak in abbreviations.]  That’s not even who I was talking about."

“I know," he says.  "Let me finish."

He then proceeds to tell me about the SIX different girls he cheated on me with during the time we were together in high school. SIX!!! Tiger Woods had nothing on Donny (except Tiger actually picked attractive girls, where Donny did not, which I considered an even bigger insult.)

The thing I remember most about the next morning is having eyes so red and puffy that my history teacher asked me if I was okay. Just let me sink down farther in my chair and die of embarrassment.

In retrospect, the truly embarrassing part is that I took him back. It was like his confession rekindled his interest in me and we started exclusively dating again. Except for girl number SEVEN. I couldn’t expect him not to have just one more little relapse, right? So what if she was my friend and debate partner? And I was freakin' on my way to visit him when it happened?

Boy – I’m glad I typed this because it reminds me just how naive and love-struck teens are. And yet, it was the most real feelings I'd ever had for someone not related to me by blood.  The type of infatuation that threatens to drag you down into a whirlpool if anything goes wrong. That's the emotion we need to tap into as YA authors!

So that's me and my pathetic, deluded, naive, love-struck, forgiving heart.  What about you?  What's your heartbreak story?  Did anyone else think their first love would last forever?

Tuesday Tales: The Flag (Part II)

Thank you for stopping by for the second installment of my female vampire short story. If you missed the first installment, you can read it here.

The Flag, Part II

     The rhythm of his pumping heart made me thirst. “You’re tempting me in ways you shouldn’t.”

     “I know.” His smile was apparent in the rumble of his voice. “But maybe I want you tempted.” His hands ran smoothly down my hips and circled up around my back. Like a snake charming me into an embrace, I raised my lips to his.

     Our lips and tongues met in perfect sync. I could have dissolved into him like the souls I gobbled. He rolled me on top of him again, then grabbed my face between his strong palms. “Drink, Lindsey. You’ll be stronger. We’ll be stronger.”

     Tears sprang to my eyes as I fought to hold back every instinct in my body. My teeth elongated as he touched me; a hunger fueled by more than appetite. He was the forbidden food. The apple I was never to eat. And I wanted him so badly I could barely breathe.

     “Make me yours, Lindsey,” he panted.

     “That’s not who I am. I wasn’t born to kill.”

     “Look at me.” His hands caught my face again and our eyes locked. “You won’t kill me. I know you won’t. You’ll drink enough to fight back against the souls. You’ll be stronger.”

     “It’s not worth the chance.”

     “Damn it. I need to be more than your Flag, Lindsey. I need to be part of your soul too. Take me in. Please.”

     My tongue flicked against the sharpened points of my fangs, unused for more than eight years. “I still remember how you taste.” He tilted back his head and his warm flesh called me like a siren’s song. Leaning in to his neck, my lips parted until he was almost close enough to bite.

     Then my heart seized, as if a soul was reaching up with a gnarled fist and squeezing. My eyes rolled back in my head as I fell off Brogan and screamed in agony. An attack; we were being attacked. I felt Brogan twist me in his arms, but had no idea what he was doing until the sweet crush of iron filled my mouth. Without thinking, I sank my fangs in deeper and gulped long, greedy pulls. With each swallow, the soul’s hold became weaker until I owned my body again.

     But the real danger hadn’t even started. “Catcher.” A Carth’s voice, like liquid night, circled around my head. He was close. And just as I’d warned Brogan, I hadn’t sensed him until he was upon us. “Come and catch me.”

     “Stay behind me,” I whispered, sitting up and clutching the sheet to my chest for cover. Brogan’s sweet blood coursed inside my veins, fueling me, making me strong enough to face our assassin. This time, Brogan wouldn’t have to make me drink the soul, I would do it on my own.

     A purple-black mist filtered under my bedroom door as the Carth wound his way inside. I felt suddenly very naked as the menacing vampire took shape before us.

     “Lindsey, Lindsey, Lindsey,” he chided. “Don’t you know better than to fall in love with your Flag?”

     I lunged forward, prepared to inhale the Carth’s soul away with a well-placed breath, but he sidestepped me. Unlike the others I’d taken – those who’d sought me out by some lustful pull to a female vampire - this one knew what he was up against. He was ready for my defenses, easily avoiding them.

     Once around me, the Carth snatched Brogan’s neck and sniffed. Then his eyes locked on mine. “Freshly bitten, Lindsey? Tisk, tisk. I didn’t think you ladies fed on your pets.” The Carth’s tongue darted out, licking away a trail of blood that leaked from Brogan’s still fresh wound.

                                                 ***

The conclusion will be posted next Tuesday. Please join me then!

Welcome Your Dreams

Art by CameoFX on DeviantART

My Tuesday post is the start of a short story I wrote, called The Flag.  The concept came to me in a dream.  All I remembered in the morning was that this young vampire girl "flagged" her first human when she was ten.  I wrote down the dream memories and moved on.  But over time, I wanted to know more... what did it mean to "flag" a human?  What happens between a vampire and her flagged mortal?  So I pondered, stretched, and created.

It seems funny to me that so many of us seem to think it's silly or an imitation to say we got our story ideas from a dream. What, just because Stephanie Meyer dreamed about Edward and Bella, she cornered the market on using her nighttime subconscious?  That's ridiculous.

IMO, we authors ought to be embracing our dreams as often as we can.  Dreams are our creative playgrounds - the place where our subconscious minds can romp and roam without any distractions.  If you keep a dream journal, you can train yourself to remember what you dreamed of the night before.  And why not?  Maybe the story, plot twist, or writer's block moment you've been waiting for is there, lurking beneath a surface you can only crack while asleep...

How many of you have gotten a story idea from your dreams?

Tuesday Tales: A vampire short story (The Flag - Part I)

THE FLAG (Part I)

So yes, I did post this short story on my Live Journal blog back in what feels like another lifetime.  But I hadn't met all of YOU then. Since I (a) wanted to share and (b) am so busy writing another novel that I haven't written any more shorts to share, I'm going to re-post this one.  Hope you enjoy.

Photo artfully acquired from jessmarie on Deviant Art

    I flagged my human when I was ten. As my teeth sank into his wrist, supple and juicy like a peach, my mother had warned me: "trust him, depend on him, but never love him. Love makes you weak."
    When your heritage leaves you destined to fight off the darker of your kind, weakness is a luxury you can’t afford. At the time, I’d had no worries about listening to my mother’s words. The gawky thirteen year old, holding his wrist out to me so I could drink, held no appeal. He would be my protector as we grew, but nothing more.
    Since flagging him, I’d been able to track Brogan’s every move. His presence called to me like a banner snapping in the wind. I could always find him, no matter how far away.
     But tonight, I didn’t need a flag to find Brogan.
     I rolled off his still-heaving chest, sticky with our commingled sweat. “This is a mistake,” I panted.
     He pulled my fingertips to his lips, kissing them. “Not for me. Never for me.”
     “We’re dooming ourselves,” I protested.
     “So be it,” he said. “Lindsey, I lo--”
     I silenced him with a kiss, sucking away his words before they could fill my head with promises I couldn’t bear to hear.
     “You can’t say that,” I told him. “We can’t afford to be weak. Not now. Not with the Carths growing their numbers.”
     “Whether I say it or not, it doesn’t change how I feel.”
      Our foreheads pressed together as we lay there in silence. I started Catching two years ago, when I was sixteen. With every captured soul, I became stronger; blacked out for shorter periods of time. But I was still in the minor leagues. Brogan had to guard me when I was under; my body absorbing a soul of the damned before he could drink again. If a Carpathian found me when I was like that, he’d snap the cord of my life with a click of his fangs.
     I needed Brogan with me while the souls digested too. Although I absorbed their strength and powers, the souls clawed at me from the inside until they were more mine than not. They particularly liked to reach up and snatch me when another Carpathian was near; as if they could weaken me so their brother could succeed where they had failed. Only Brogan could make me ingest another soul when I was weakened.
     “I just can’t, Brogan. I want this more than anything I’ve ever wanted in my life. But I won’t put you in danger.”
     “I’m never in danger so long as we’re together.”
     “You’re wrong,” I argued, even as his arm wrapped around my shoulders and pulled me back. “If I’m distracted – like this – I won’t sense one coming.”
     “I’ll take care of you,” he said. His kisses sprinkled over my eyes and nose.
     “It’s not me I’m worried about. What if a soul pulls me under and a Carth goes for you first? What then?”
    “Then we die together.”
    “No. That’s not okay.” I shook my head, unwilling to imagine a Carth with his fangs in Brogan’s neck. Even I had only tasted his wrist. If anyone drank from Brogan’s most tender flesh, it should be me. But Catchers only drank to flag, to create an alliance. Not even in pleasure could I taste my mortal again. That’s what they did. And I wasn’t one of them.
     Brogan pulled me in even closer, guiding my ear against his pounding heart. “Would you rather live to save the world, or die knowing you’d tasted love?”

Check back next week for part II...