Mythical Books: Excerpt and Giveaway: Isla’s Inheritance (Isla’s Inheritance #1) by Cassandra Page

Published: October 9th, 2014

Description:

Isla was content to let her father keep his secrets, but now she can’t stand the touch of iron and her dreams are developing a life of their own. She must discover the truth — before it’s too late.

Seventeen-year-old Isla Blackman only agrees to participate in a Halloween party séance because Dominic, an old crush, wants to. She is sure nothing will happen when they try to contact the spirit of her mother. But the séance receives a chilling reply.

SHE IS NOT DEAD.

Isla doesn’t want to upset her father by prying into the family history he never discusses. When the mysterious and unearthly Jack offers to help her discover the truth, Isla must master her new abilities to protect her loved ones from enemies she never knew existed.

I decided very early on in the drafting process that I didn’t want cute Disney elves. Not that I have a problem with Disney—I’m a mum and therefore know the Frozen soundtrack verbatim—but I felt something darker than Tinker Bell suited young adult readers better. My ruling class of fae are renowned for their vanity, and their cruelty to those in their service. As a result, the fae in Australia are almost all refugees of one kind or another: “lesser” fae who want to live free of oppression.

Even though Turquoise Morning Press is based out of the USA, the team decided that since the story is set in Australia, it would be more authentic to use Australian spelling and terms where possible. However, I did try and choose words that had common meanings, to minimise the chaos and confusion for readers. As an example, a thong in Australia is a type of shoe that I’m told is called a flip flop in the US. We’d never say flip flop here but, on the other hand, given what a thong is in other parts of the world, I didn’t really want people to get mixed up! There have been a few different decisions like that.

EXCERPT

“I’m not sure which is worse,” I whispered to Hamish, stroking his fur, “believing I killed my mother, or believing she abandoned me…and Dad lied about it.” Hamish didn’t answer. He was already asleep. “Well, you’re no use.”

Against all odds, the steady rhythm of Hamish’s breathing lulled me into a doze. It seemed like no time had passed when I awoke to a change in light: my father’s large frame was in the doorway, blocking the light.

“Isla? Are you awake?” His voice was tentative.

“Yes.” I sat up, rubbing my eyes. Hamish grumbled a protest.

“Can I turn the light on?”

“Sure.”

I blinked and stared at my father. He looked dishevelled and his eyes were wide, like he’d seen a ghost. He was holding the gift bag he’d given me on my birthday. “You left this at the restaurant the other week, when you went out for dessert with that boy,” he said, his voice strained.

As confused and resentful as I was feeling right now, I still loved him, and his appearance worried me. “Dad, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he said. He was an even worse liar than Sarah. He came into the room and sat on the edge of the bed. “Here.” He tried to hand me the bag. Vomit burned the back of my throat, and I flinched back.

He saw the flinch, and his face grew even more drawn. “Isla, take it.” There was an urgency in his tone that I neither understood nor liked.

“No. Dad, what’s going on? You’re freaking me out.”

He looked around the room. “Do you have any of my work in here?”

The question confused me. I felt my cheeks warm. “Um, I’m not sure.” The answer was no. Pretty much every piece of ironwork he’d given me was in the shed. The rest I’d given away to friends.

“Here.” He upended the gift bag. The heavy iron circlet tumbled into my lap.

My stomach twisted with nausea so severe I clenched my teeth, afraid I’d throw up. Where the iron touched my thighs through the denim of my jeans it felt ice-cold, and yet it burned at the same time. I gasped, shoving it away from me and onto the floor. It singed my hand.

“What the hell are you doing?” I jumped to my feet. Hamish leapt up too, yapping.

Dad said nothing but the look on his face was wild, despairing.

“You’re crazy,” I cried, fleeing the room.

“Isla, wait,” Dad yelled after me. But I ran, snatching my bag from the hallway before rushing out the front door. I ignored the bite of tiny rocks on the soles of my feet. I had to get away from him, from everything.

******

“You should not be up here alone,” a voice said.

Heart in my throat, I spun so quickly I nearly fell. Standing a few metres away from me was a figure in baggy jeans and a soft grey jumper. A hood was pulled up to cover his head, casting his face in deep shadow.

“I’m not alone,” I lied, squaring my shoulders and putting one hand on my hip. The other I slipped into my jeans pocket, getting a good grip on my car keys. Natalie had told us after she did a self-defence course that the individual keys, protruding from a clenched fist, could serve as an improvised weapon.

My heart raced so hard I was sure the stranger could hear it.

“You are,” he corrected me. At least, I thought it was a he, judging by the voice.

“My boyfriend has just gone to the bathroom.” Absurd; there were no public bathrooms up here. Before he could call me on it, I added, “It’s none of your business.” He wasn’t tall, which made me feel a little more confident.

“It is not safe for you, lady.”

What? “Who are you?” He hesitated, and I took a step forward. It was foolish, but I’d had enough tonight. “Tell me!”

The stranger pushed his hood back.

His dark eyes, fixed on my face, were the first things I noticed. They were large, like those of a baby animal that hadn’t grown into its skin. In the poor light I couldn’t determine their colour. His nose was small; his chin pointed; his skin pale and covered in delicate wrinkles, especially around the mouth and eyes; and his hair straight, either dark blond or light brown. And his ears….

They protruded from his hair, long and pointed, the tips a good hand span away from his skull.

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About the author:

Cassandra Page is a mother, author, editor and geek. She lives in Canberra, Australia’s bush capital, with her son and two Cairn Terriers. She has a serious coffee addiction and a tattoo of a cat — which is ironic, as she’s allergic to cats. When she’s not reading or writing, she engages in geekery, from Doctor Who to AD&D. Because who said you need to grow up?