Текст книги "Ice Country"

Автор книги: David Estes

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Текущая страница: 17 (всего у книги 18 страниц)

Chapter Thirty-Four

Three days later Jolie still hasn’t moved.

With only two days before Skye and her gang leave to find the Stormers, Feve’s been teaching the healers what they’ll need to do for Jolie after he’s gone.

Skye insists I’m not coming with her, but I am. At least that’s what I’m telling Buff.

“I’m going,” I say.

“You sure you want to leave Jolie?” he asks for the third time.

I shake my head. “I don’t want to, Buff, ice it! By the Heart of the Mountain you know that’s true. But I have to. You know I do. I owe Skye, Siena, all the others. I owe it to Jolie to find out the truth.”

“But isn’t Skye telling you not to come?”

“Yah, but I’m freezin’ going anyway, okay?”

“Okay, okay. I’ll watch out for her while you’re gone.”

“Nay. Clint and Looza already said they’ll do it. You’ve got to come with us.”

Buff’s face falls. “Dazz, you know I want to, more than anything, but I can’t. Father, he’s not getting back on his feet anytime soon and I have to get a job—a real job—or Darce and the others are gonna starve.”

I smile. Not at the thought of Buff’s bed-ridden father or of his brothers and sisters starving, but because I have a solution. Compliments of Abe and Hightower. Buff takes my smile the completely wrong way. “Something funny?” he says, his fists coiled at his side.

Things must be really bad at home if his temper’s gotten as bad as mine. I speak quickly. “What if I pay you in advance to help us find Skye’s sister?” I say.

His eyebrows shoot up and he stares at me like I’ve been punched in the head one too many times, which I probably have. “Pay me? I don’t want to come as part of a job. I want to come because you’re my friend.”

I feel a bit of foolish warmth in my heart so I smack a fist in my hand to compensate. “Not like a job,” I say. “Like a donation. To your family. So you can come.”

“You’ve barely got more silver than me, and you’ll need to give it all to Clint to take care of Jolie and your mother while you’re gone.”

I keep smiling as I tell him about Abe’s little visit. He doesn’t believe me until I show him the pouch of silver coins. “Holy mother of all shivballs!” he exclaims. “You’re rich, Dazz!”

I nod because I am, and because sickles solve problems. “So you’ll do it?”

“Chill yah, I’ll do it,” he says, all smiles and taut muscles.

~~~

“Sear it, I’m gonna miss you when we leave,” Skye says, running a finger along my hand.

I laugh. “You know, I really love your honesty, Skye, but I’m coming with you.”

“You ain’t.”

“Think what you want to,” I say.

“My fists say you ain’t,” she says, and I laugh again.

“You can’t fight me,” I say. “Remember what happened last time? We might as well skip the fighting part and go straight to the other part.”

“You want to?” Skye says, her eyes bold and sharp as they cut into mine.

This time I really hope Jolie can’t hear us.

Skye leans into me and I scoop a hand around the back of her neck, slip it under her coat, feel the warmth of her smooth skin, pull her even closer. Her forehead touches mine and we look at each other, all the way in, closer than close, her brown chestnut eyes bearing her soul to me, and I can see—nay, feel—how much she wants me, how when she looks at me she feels the same way I do when I look at her.

I touch her jaw with my other hand, just below her ear, running my thumb along her brown skin. And then we kiss, more tenderly and slowly than the last time, when it was all adrenaline and urgency and—

I pull back, glancing sharply at Jolie, who I thought I saw move.

“What?” she says, following my gaze.

Jolie continues sleeping as still as a stone, just like she’s been the whole time.

Feeling foolish, I say, “Sorry, Skye, I thought—I just thought I saw…”

“It’s okay,” Skye says with that raspy voice of hers that makes me shake with desire. She touches a gentle hand to my face, brushing the scruff of my beard. “Time’ll heal everythin’,” she says.

~~~

One day till Skye leaves. (And me with her?)

I know, I know, I’ve been saying all along how I’m going, how Buff’s going with me, how I owe them and have to help Skye and Siena find her sister…but…but…

Jolie.

How can I leave my sleeping angel sister alone in her bed, maybe to wake up one day without me there by her side? After all she’s been through, how could I ever do that? The warmth of the fire is making me sweat.

I’m brooding over my thoughts, changing my mind again and again, when there’s a knock on the door. Usually Skye and Buff and the others just come right in, so it surprises me. Abe again maybe?

I wipe my sleeve on the frosted glass so I can take a peek. My breath hitches. What am I seeing?

I rush to the door, thrust it open, slamming it off the wall, but not caring, not caring, because—

–standing before me is my mother, practically withered away to nothing, all skin and bones and as pale as the Glassies, but that doesn’t matter, because she’s standing on her own two feet.

“Dazz,” she says, her voice as whispery as it always is, like when she’s murmuring nonsense at the fire. But there’s no nonsense in it, because it’s her—it’s really her. Not drugged-out Mother, but the real one, the one who was always there, always around when father was working in the mines, who only left us when he did.

My brain’s telling me to turn her away, to tell her to come back when she’s been clean for more than a day, a month at least, but every instinct in my body is saying different. And after everything—Wes and Jolie and Skye and the king—I can’t, I can’t be the firm hand on her now, because I need her, maybe every bit as much as she needs me.

I step forward and curl my arms around her, feeling my heart beating firmly against her head, which rests on my chest. I hold her and hold her and hold her, and I feel her body shaking as she sobs into me, but then I realize I’m shaking too, just letting go, letting everything out of me, because she’s my mother again, and she can make all the bad stuff go away.

I don’t know how long we stand there, just hugging, just being mother and son again, but by the time we pull apart there’s snow on our eyebrows and in our hair from the big, fluffy flakes that have begun to fall, coating everything, including us, in white.

“Want to come inside?” I ask.

She bites her lip and nods, frozen tears on her pale cheeks.

Her tears melt from the warmth of the fire while we sit next to each other, watching Jolie sleep. We don’t say anything, except when, from time to time, Mother strokes Jolie’s hair and murmurs, “My baby, oh, my sweet baby.”

I just watch her, wonder how things could’ve been different had my father not died, or if mother was able to cope with it better. Would we be different, Jolie and I? How much was lost by my mother’s actions, by her weakness? Although I don’t want it to, my red, red temper starts to rise.

I clench my fists in my lap to try to squeeze it back down.

Mother’s eyes flick to my hands. “I know, Dazz,” she says. “You’re angry. You have every right to be.” She won’t look at me, keeps her eyes on Jolie, and I don’t blame her. I’d be scared of me too if I were in her position.

“You as good as abandoned us,” I say through my teeth.

“I know.”

“Father didn’t have a choice—it was the disease that took him—but you—”

“I know.”

“You could’ve been stronger, could’ve taken care of us, helped us through the loss that hurt us every bit as much as it hurt you.”

“I know, Dazz.”

“Jolie was just a little girl…is just a little girl. And Wes…Wes had to become a man, take care of all of us, well before any kid should have to. And now he’s…” And I can’t say it, can’t say it, not one more time.

“I know, Dazz.”

“You know nothing!” I rage, burning a hole in the side of her head with my eyes. Still she won’t look at me, because she’s too weak, like she’s always been. “Look at me!” I demand, and she flinches a little, her cheek raised, turning red, like she’s been slapped.

Slowly, so slowly, she turns to face me, her eyes filled with moisture and failure. “I’m sorry, I—”

She reaches for me, but I’m not ready to touch her, still hot and quivering with anger.

“—I hate myself for it,” she says, the tears dripping out of her eyes and falling all the way to my feet, splashing on my boots.

The hurt, the anger, the accusations, all of it, falls away from me, leaving me as bare as if I was naked, stripped to my very soul. Before me sits a broken woman, my mother, who’s punishing herself for what she’s done far more than I ever could. And she won’t…nay, can’t get through this without me supporting her, especially with Father and Wes gone. All we’ve got is each other and Jolie, and that has to be enough, will be enough. I’m sure of it.

I push into her arms for the second time, clutch her tighter than before.

When I pull back, I say, “Let me make you a cup of tea,” and her teary smile warms me more than the fire, or a cup of tea, ever could.

~~~

“Thank you,” I say, having spoken those words many times before, but never meaning them as much as now. Mother told me how Wilde helped her over the past few days, how without her she’d never have defeated the drugs.

“I’m just glad I could help,” Wilde says, and I can tell she means her words too.

It’s just us, walking through the woods on the edge of the village, while my mother, Skye, and Buff look after my sister. It’s the first time I’ve left the house in days, and the cool chill of the air makes me feel alive again. And going with Wilde…that was my request.

“Wes and I,” I say, my voice cracking slightly, as it always does when I say my brother’s name, “we tried so many times…”

“It’s okay,” Wilde says, taking my hand, squeezing it, making me feel better with only those two words and her simple touch.

I can’t help but think about how different someone’s touch can feel from another’s. When Skye holds my hand, it’s like my whole body’s on fire, reaching for hers, pushing for her, needing to be closer to every part of her. And when I held my mother’s hand earlier today, it felt warm and safe. But now, holding Wilde’s hand, it’s different still. A whole world of different, like nothing I’ve ever felt before. So full of caring and mystery and strength, like she’s giving me her strength through my glove, through my skin, charging it into me. And although she only feels sisterly to me, I can see why Buff is so taken by her.

“How did you do it?” I ask. I have to know, in case my mother ever falls again—so I can save her myself.

Wilde releases my hand, extends her palm, and catches a snowflake on it. We both stop walking as she studies it, as if committing every last detail to her memory. I watch her, somewhat awkwardly, unsure of what to do or say.

When the snowflake finally melts from the body heat coming through her glove, she looks at me and says, “Everything beautiful must die eventually. And to her, your father was the most beautiful thing in the world. All she needed was to understand that.”

And, of course, that explains everything and nothing, but I’m thankful for it either way.

~~~

I still feel sort of awkward being alone with him, but I couldn’t put it off any longer, so I pulled him aside.

Feve stares at me with dark eyes, waiting expectantly. “Are we just going to look at each other all day, Icy?” he asks.

I take a deep breath. “Look, I know things have been…rocky for us from the start, but I want to thank you. I don’t know if my sister will wake up, but she’d be dead without you; and you never backed down from a fight that wasn’t really yours in the first place. So thank you.”

Feve raises his chin, cocks his head to the side, looks at me thoughtfully. “I still don’t like you much,” he says, “but I accept your thanks. And you did save my life once. Who knows, maybe we’ll become friends one day.”

Not today, I think. “Maybe,” I say, nodding.

Chapter Thirty-Five

They’re leaving later today, Siena and Circ and Wilde and Feve and Skye.

Going to find the Stormers. To find Jade, if she’s still alive. It may be the last time I see any of them again. Buff’s going too, even though I’m not. He said he’ll get my revenge for me, as long as I take care of his family.

I’m scared of losing all of them, but I won’t abandon my family, not when we’re so broken to pieces, and yet feeling like we have the potential to be whole again.

Skye said she’ll come around later to say goodbye, but I think she’s delaying it as much as I am.

Mother’s out. I know, it sounds weird even to me. She hasn’t been out in a long time, doing normal things. The bakery, which was burned to the ground during the Stormer attack, has been temporarily relocated and is back up and running, so she took some of Abe’s silver and went with Wilde to buy some fresh bread. I’m thankful we don’t have to eat Buff’s hard rolls anymore.

I’m holding Jolie’s hand, just holding it, telling her a story. A story about her brother’s bravery, about how Wes was her hero, trying to break down walls to get to her, to save her. How he gave his life to save hers. My tears are flowing before I’m even halfway finished.

That’s when I feel it.

A twitch. Her finger moves beneath my grasp.

I swear it does.

I stop speaking, stop moving, wait.

Nothing.

Nothing.

My imagination or a random muscle spasm. Nothing more. I can’t hope for more.

So I go back to telling my story, hoping for the day when a twitch is real and turns into more—

She twitches again and I know this one is real because right after it her mouth opens and she yawns—really yawns!—lifts an arm above her head and stretches—

And I’m staring, just staring, tingling all over, my mouth gaping open, but sort of turning into a smile, but sort of not, because I could wake up anytime and it could all be a dream, but then she’s opening her eyes, pushing the sleep—the long, long sleep—out of them with a little fist, the way she always has and—

–looking at me, really looking at me, with adoring eyes that I’ve missed so much, missed more than I even realized until I see them right now, at just this perfect, perfect moment.

“Dazz?” she says, and it’s the same voice that spoke to me when the king had her, when he was stabbing her, trying to take my whole life away from me for no reason other than he could. But she’s not in his grasp anymore, won’t ever be in his grasp again, and I drop to my knees and I hug her, feeling an explosion of warmth and love running along and through every part of me, concentrating in my chest, right where my heart is beating furiously for my sister. My sister who’s alive.

Alive for good.

~~~

I’ve been arguing with Jolie for near on an icin’ hour now.

After all the tears and the hugs and the mourning for Wes and the big family reunion with my mother, Jolie demanded I tell her everything. So I told her the whole story, and I told her the parts about Skye—leaving out certain details, of course—three times over, because she wanted to hear them again and again, and I’d do pretty much anything for her right now.

That’s when the arguments began.

“You have to go with them,” Jolie insists again, trying to sit up.

And, of course, that’s the one thing I won’t do for her right now.

I gently guide her head back onto her pillow. “I’m not leaving you,” I say, refusing to back down. “Either of you,” I add, looking at my mother, who’s standing—actually standing—her hands on her hips.

“I’m fine now, Dazz, I swear it,” my mother says.

I roll my eyes. “I’ve heard that before,” I say, “but without Wilde here to work her magic, will you really be fine?”

She nods but even she doesn’t have much belief behind it. Whatever influence Wilde has on her ability to stay clean, it’s stronger than I think either of us fully understands.

There’s a knock on the door and I know it’s time. Time for Skye to say goodbye. Time for everyone to say goodbye.

But it’s not. Not quite yet. Only Wilde stands at the door when I open it.

Her timing is so uncanny I’m beginning to think she really does have magic inside her.

“I’ve made a decision,” she says.

“I have too,” I say, inviting her in with a sweep of my arm.

My mother greets her with a fierce hug. “How are you feeling?” Wilde asks.

“Better than ever,” Mother says. “I’ve got my daughter back.” She motions to the bed, where Jolie’s sitting up, even though I’ve told her time and time again that she needs to rest a bit longer.

“Are you…are you from fire country?” Jolie asks, eyes wider and whiter than snow-covered boulders.

“I am,” Wilde says, approaching my sister with graceful steps. She takes Jolie’s hands in hers. “It’s a true pleasure to finally meet you.”

Jolie stares at her, as if mesmerized, taking in every part of her, from her long black hair to her brown skin. “You look strange,” Jolie says and I suck in a sharp breath.

“Jolie!” I say, feeling embarrassment flush my skin.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean anything by it,” Jolie says, not sounding that sorry. “I mean you’re beautiful, but not like my mother is beautiful. Different.”

“It’s okay,” Wilde says. “You’re beautiful, too, in a way that’s different too. A very good way.”

At that, Jolie smiles, and I’m happy she’s getting on with one of my new friends, but it doesn’t change what has to happen today. “You said you came to a decision?” I say.

Still holding my sister’s hands, Wilde says, “Yes. I’ve decided to stay.”

“What?” I blurt out. “Stay where?”

“Here. With your family. With your mother, for a little while.”

Her words float across the room, but they’re strange and I get the sense that they’ll drift all the way into the fire and burn to ash if I don’t grab ahold of them. “But the others, they need you,” I say.

“No,” she says. “They need you.”

Jolie claps her little hands. “See, I told you, Dazz.”

“Nay, I can’t,” I say. “I can’t.”

“Yes, you can,” Wilde persists. “You needn’t worry about a thing while you’re gone. We’ll stay here for a while, until your sister recovers, and then they’ll travel with me to fire country. My people need me now more than ever, and I fear I’ve been gone too long already.”

“To fire country?” I say.

Wilde nods. “If they’re willing.”

“Oh, Mother, can we?” Jolie says, practically squirming with excitement.

“Mother,” I say sharply.

She looks at me, at Jolie, at Wilde, and then says, “We can and we will.”

~~~

It’s almost time to go and I still can’t believe I’m going. I still don’t know if I should. But iced if I can argue with Jolie, she’s got a stubborn streak a mountain high and wider than fire country.

Jolie’s met everyone, and although she still seems somewhat in awe of my friends from fire country, she seems perfectly at ease with them too.

First she thanked Feve about a million times for saving her life, which was sort of funny to watch because he didn’t seem that comfortable with all the praise. Eventually he left to wait for us outside.

Then, when she saw Siena and Circ holding hands, she thought it best to investigate their relationship, asking every question she could think of about how it started, how long they’ve known each other, and everything in between. Her curiosity made me laugh because it wasn’t that different than my own, when we were in the dungeons.

When she got tired of that, she latched onto Skye and now appears intent on talking her ear off.

“What’s it like to live on sand? I don’t really know what sand is, but it sounds nice. Saaand. It’s even fun to say the word. How hot is it where you come from? Hotter than summer here? Is my brother a good kisser? I bet he is. Will I like fire country?” Jolie continues to let loose a random assortment of questions, answering half of them herself, as Skye scratches her head. Even she’s baffled by what to make of my sister.

“Uhh…” she says, probably wondering which question to answer first.

“I think that’s enough for one day, Joles. I’m sure Wilde’ll be happy to answer your many questions over time, while we’re gone,” I say, sitting on her bed next to Skye.

“You’ll be back soon, right Dazz?” Her nose crinkles up earnestly.

“I’ll do my best,” I say. “But you’ll be safe with Wilde and with Mother.” I can’t believe I’m saying it and actually meaning it, but it’s true. Mother’s better than she’s been in a long time and I have a feeling this time it might stick.

Jolie’s nose uncrinkles and her eyebrows lift, her eyes widen. “Dazz, you find her, you find that girl, and all the rest too,” she says, hugging me tight.

I hold her close, feel her warm little body, so real, so alive, her heart pumping. The world is right again. So right. “I will,” I whisper into her hair. “We all will.”

I stand up, trying to hide the tears in my eyes. Mother awaits.

“You don’t worry about anything at all while you’re gone,” she says. “I’m better, and with Wilde here, I’ll stay better.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” I say, embracing her, feeling her frail body fold into mine. “Goodbye, Mother.”

“Goodbye, Son.”

Somewhat solemnly, we leave, Siena then Circ then Skye then Buff.

I start to follow but then turn in the doorway. “Thank you, Wilde,” I say. “Thank you for everything.”

She just nods and smiles. “Go,” she says.

Out in the autumn-cold, I pull in a deep breath of cool, crisp air, hold it for a second, and then push it out in a cloud of steam. Watching me, Skye says, “I still can’t get over how we all breathe smoke up ’ere.”

I just smile and drape an arm over her shoulder, which earns me a punch in the gut that I think is meant to be soft and friendly, but which hurts like chill and leaves me gasping. I try to hide how much it really hurts while Skye laughs.

We make our way through and out of the Brown District, ignoring the stares we get from all the Icers who still haven’t gotten used to seeing brown-skinned folk walking around town. You’d think after having the dark riders charging around they wouldn’t bat an eye, but sometimes change don’t sit so well with folks. After a couple of glances though, they go back to whatever it is that they’re doing—repairing burnt houses, shoveling snow, or chasing their kids around.

Cutting across the space that connects the four Districts, we head for the White District. Entering the upscale area, it’s strange to see so many of the beautiful houses devastated by the fires set by the Stormers. A roof missing here, a once-beautiful mahogany door charred black there. But the really interesting thing: there are Brown District men repairing everything. Even after all that’s happened, the rich folk can’t bring themselves to do an honest day’s work, relying on the sweat and muscle of the lower classes. Things are changing alright, but sometimes change is slower than you want, while other times it’s faster than a dark rider’s gallop.

As we pass a familiar house with a red door that evidently escaped the Stormers’ fires, I see a familiar scene. The door is thrown open and a guy pops out, chased by a vase, which hits him in the back of the head, sending him tumbling out into the snow. “And stay out!” a shrill, witch-like voice hollers after him before the door slams, jarring clumps of snow off the roof.

I laugh when I recognize the guy. Soft-hands LaRoy, previously known as girlfriend-stealer. Little did he know he was doing me a favor. It seems things didn’t work out for him and the witch so well after all.

I approach him, chuckling to myself.

When he sees me he shrinks back into the snowdrift, hands above his head. I fake a punch and he shrinks further still. Smiling, I extend a hand, which he stares at with the most disturbed look on his face. “Take it,” I say.

After a moment’s hesitation he does, and I pull him to his feet, using a hand to brush the snow off his back. “Trust me,” I say, “you’re better off without her.”

He shrugs and then flinches when I fake another punch. Despite all that’s happened, it’d feel good to hit him just once, but I won’t today. There’s always another fight to be fought, and although I’m looking forward to the next one, I now know I can control myself.

I return to Skye’s side. “What the scorch?” she says, raising her eyebrows.

“Long story,” I say. “Maybe I’ll tell you on the way to storm country.”

She punches me in the ribs again and I’m beginning to think that means she likes me, which is good enough for me.

We leave the village, and with the setting sun trying to push red light through the thick, gray cloud cover, we march into the forest, two Icers and four fire country natives, off to save the world, or at least a few kids. They’re someone’s daughters, sons, brothers, sisters—special to someone. Special to Skye and Siena.

And I’ll do everything I can to save every last one of them. Just like my sister.

Just like Jolie.

~*~

Keep reading for a sneak peak at the action-packed sequel, book three of the Country Saga (a Dwellers sister series), Water & Storm Country, coming June 7, 2013!

Acknowledgments

As always, I have to thank all the readers, new and old, who have stuck with me through this series. Between the three books in the Dwellers Saga and the two so far in the Country Saga, I know it takes a huge level of commitment to be a part of it, and for that I thank you. But we’re not done yet! I’m especially excited about the third book in the Country Saga, Water & Storm Country, which will answer a lot of your questions about the Cure and who’s behind, in Siena’s words, the ’spiracy. And then, of course, The Earth Dwellers will smash the two series together in a final seventh book (may the sun goddess and Heart of the Mountain be with me as I attempt to not screw this up!), in what I hope will be an epic end to a long adventure. Thanks for sticking with me!

My wife, Adele, gets the biggest hug ever, for being the ultimate supporter and challenger, keeping me from making stupid (and cheesy) decisions in my stories. You are more than just a friend and wife, you’re my soul mate and partner for life and beyond!

Thanks to Rhomy at Black Lion Book Tours, who put together the perfect blog tour to get the word out!

To my remarkably talented cover artist, Regina Wamba, you’ve created the perfect book cover to contrast the cover for Fire Country, and I’m sure your two covers will grace many a bookshelf. Thanks for your dedication to my vision and to the series.

Next, a rapid-fire thank you thank you thank you to my beta readers. You really rocked on this book, taking it to levels even I didn’t realize it could hit. So thanks to Laurie Love, Alexandria Theodosopoulos, Kayleigh-Marie Gore, Kerri Hughes, Terri Thomas, Lolita Verroen, Rachel Schade, and Ventura Dennis for being awesome. And a special thanks to Mr. Anthony Briggs Jr. for pushing me to develop my story in ways I never imagined. Many of the jaw-dropping moments in the book are a result of your gentle but honest feedback.

To my super-secret street team (shhh, don’t tell anyone who you are), thanks for being even more vocal (if that’s possible) in promoting my books than ever before. I get tears in my eyes when I see what you do for me on a daily basis. Your friendship is for a lifetime.

The saga continues in other books by David Estes available through the author’s official website:

http://davidestesbooks.blogspot.com

or through select online retailers including Smashwords.com.

The Dwellers Saga:

Book One—The Moon Dwellers

Book Two—The Star Dwellers

Book Three—The Sun Dwellers

Book Four—The Earth Dwellers (coming September 2013!)

The Country Saga (A Dwellers sister series):

Book One—Fire Country

Book Two—Ice Country

Book Three—Water & Storm Country (Coming June 7, 2013!)

The Evolution Trilogy:

Book One—Angel Evolution

Book Two—Demon Evolution

Book Three—Archangel Evolution

Children’s Books by David Estes

The Nikki Powergloves Adventures:

Nikki Powergloves—A Hero Is Born

Nikki Powergloves and the Power Council

Nikki Powergloves and the Power Trappers

Nikki Powergloves and the Great Adventure

Nikki Powergloves vs. the Power Outlaws (Coming in 2013!)

Connect with David Estes Online

David Estes Fans and YA Book Lovers Unite: http://www.goodreads.com/group/show/70863-david-estes-fans-and-ya-book-lovers-unite

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/pages/David-Estes/130852990343920

My blog: http://davidestesbooks.blogspot.com

Smashwords: http://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/davidestes100

About the Author

David Estes was born in El Paso, Texas but moved to Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania when he was very young. He grew up in Pittsburgh and then went to Penn State for college. Eventually he moved to Sydney, Australia where he met his wife and soul mate, Adele, who he’s now been happily married to for more than two years.

A reader all his life, David began writing novels for the children's and YA markets in 2010, and has completed 14 novels, 12 of which have been published. In June of 2012, David became a fulltime writer and is now travelling the world with Adele while he writes books, and she writes and takes photographs.

David gleans inspiration from all sorts of crazy places, like watching random people do entertaining things, dreams (which he jots copious notes about immediately after waking up), and even from thin air sometimes!

David’s a writer with OCD, a love of dancing and singing (but only when no one is looking or listening), a mad-skilled ping-pong player, an obsessive Goodreads group member, and prefers writing at the swimming pool to writing at a table. He loves responding to e-mails, Facebook messages, Tweets, blog comments, and Goodreads comments from his readers, all of whom he considers to be his friends.

A SNEAK PEEK

WATER & STORM COUNTRY

BOOK 3 OF THE COUNTRY SAGA

Available anywhere e-books are sold June 7, 2013!