The Part That Doesn’t Burn
Goetia Series
Book One
Sam Poling
Genre: Dark Fantasy
Publisher: Tirgearr Publishing
Date of Publication: March 23rd, 2016
ISBN: 9781310401916
ASIN: B01BW0Q2Y4
Number of pages: 319
Word Count: 97,000
Cover Artist: Cora Graphics
Book Description:
In an overpopulated city-state where technology and magic are forbidden by the corrupt church, young witch, Mirabel Fairfax, plots the creation of a deadly plague to cull the burdensome rabble.
That is, until she falls in love with the very alchemist she has been deceiving.
Now, with soul-hungry geists flooding the city, the church scrambling for their prey, and her own mind at war with itself, Mirabel must decide what she's fighting for before she loses everything to the evils of Autumnfall.
Excerpt:
Mirabel waited in
the darkness. Each passing second made
it exponentially less likely the power would return.
“Mirabel? Did we
lose power?” Felix’s voice quivered in the darkness.
“It should return
momentarily.”
They waited.
Mirabel could practically feel Felix’s demeanor evaporating.
“M-Mirabel?”
“Unbelievable, the
singular time I am protecting company on the geistlines, a train dies. We are
not coal powered. We are coming to a stop. Perhaps your pessimism rang true.
Sour fortune must have followed you from Haugen. We need to leave.”
“L-leave? As in,
leave the train, and go out there?”
“Felix, without
power the only thing stopping a geist from swooping in here and taking your
face off is nothing. One hundred percent nothing. Essentially, we already have
the cons of being outside, along with the narrow space of being inside. Not a
survivable combination.”
Without hesitation
Felix took to gathering his tools, and corralling them into his bags.
“No time for
that.”
She tugged him out
of their room and through the train car. One side of the car featured the
cabins. Asleep and unaware, no one else left their rooms. Windows with their
blinds drawn and a faint cyan shimmering through adorned the other side.
“They’re lining
both sides of the tracks. How long do we have?” said Felix.
“Geist behavior is
a constant mystery, even to me, but eventually some will strike. Even those
with eternity run out of patience.”
They reached the
door to the next car and Mirabel mashed on the panel. Nothing. No power, no
doors. She tried the manual handle, but it wouldn’t budge. If only Miss
Perfect-Priestess were here, then the door wouldn’t be able to fly open fast
enough.
“Oh bother,” she
said.
“Door haunted
too?”
“Handle denies me.
Seems rusted, and I wonder if they automatically power lock.”
She could barely
make out Felix’s nervous wince. “I wouldn’t expect that, Mirabel. Emergency
situations would turn fatalities.”
“That is not
happening with us.” She put her weight on the lever. It didn’t amount to much,
and the lever knew it.
“Let me try.”
Felix consisted of
average build and height, if not a tad lanky. Certainly not the strong type.
Petite Mirabel stood quite small, a whole head shorter, also not the strong
type, but she expected she could generate more strength. The alchemist didn’t
have the mind for it.
“Felix, darling,
put your hands here.” She directed his hands next to hers. “Press down on
three, yes?”
Violet light
washed over the handle they gripped before she got to “one.” She didn’t have to
turn around to know its source. It traveled up her arms and across the door. If
another passenger had opened a blind, the light source wouldn’t be nearing
them.
“Three-three-three,”
she shouted.
Felix threw down
on the handle alongside her. Perhaps he did have the mind for it when
terrified. With a shriek the lever punched into the open position, and the
partners threw their hands into the crevice at the door’s left.
“Get the blasted
thing open. Pull, Felix, do not look back.”
She made a
mistake. Everyone looks back when instructed not to. He turned his neck and got
an eyeful of something that forced a spate foul language. Such words didn’t
suit him. Pulling with whatever force her slender arms could muster, she joined
his blunder and looked over her shoulder.
A geist,
two-thirds down the corridor, drifted closer. Its face partially lifted from
its head, hanging a few inches from where it belonged. The glowing wisp
mimicked the body it used to have, but poorly. The translucent skin melted and
slid ever downward. She knew the face would contort any moment: the precursor
to assault. And it had the gut-wrenching violet hue. Of all the geists to enter
first, it had to be a damned giftgeist. She had no hope of generating enough
magic to destroy it before it reached them.
The broken door
started to grind open. She fit her thin body part way into the opening. Her
heels dug into the carpet and her back braced against the door’s narrow edge,
with her hands pressing against the wall. “Felix, pull.”
The geist twisted
into a monster far fiercer than before; its face warped into elongated grief
and its jaw stretched to the side to give a dry, raspy howl. Passengers
meandering into the hall heard it. They slung their own screams and ran the
opposite way. The worst decision during a geistline incident: running toward
the rear of the train. They wouldn’t live long.
She reached above
her head and flicked her fingers. “You want electricity, you fromping door?
H-have some.” More white flashes fluttered between her fingers with each flick.
“Come on, I had this spell mastered yesterday.”
“Mirabel?
Mirabel,” yelped Felix. “It’s-it’s coming.”
“Simmer. I am
focusing.”
“Focus faster!”
With a final
flick, current rushed from the witch’s fingertips up into the door mechanisms.
She had no idea what it accomplished, but the lights around the immediate
vicinity flashed, including the door panel. Her left hand dropped and swatted
it. The door grinded opened halfway before its lights died again. Halfway gave
them more than enough space. The partners darted through into the next car.
Glancing back, Mirabel saw the geist stop and turn to its side. Another
passenger had peeked out of their cabin an arm’s length from the specter. It
shot from Mirabel’s view before the rattled cries of a man and woman reached
her ears.
Felix stopped as
abruptly as the geist had. “It’s attacking someone.”
“Keep moving.”
“Mirabel, you’ve
got to do something, there are three cars full of people back there.”
“And we are the
only valuable ones.”
About the Author:
Sam Poling has been writing fantasy and science fiction for the thrill of it his entire life, from short stories to screenplays. His love for each of the subgenres led to dedication to writing genre-skirting fiction with all the elements that make up the human condition. He holds a strong enthusiasm for medical studies and currently works as a medical assistant in a large clinic while taking classing for nursing. He also serves on a health and safety committee, including disaster preparedness and infection control. His interest in epidemiology and medical science tends to spill over into his writing endeavors.
Author’s site: www.samuelpoling.com
Author’s Page http://www.tirgearrpublishing.com/authors/Poling_Sam/index.htm
Twitter: @SamuelPoling
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/Samuel.T.Poling
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/15010988.Sam_Poling
