Friday, September 12, 2014

Wounded by Shannon Mayer‏


Shannon Mayer lives in the southwestern tip of Canada with her husband, dog, cats, horse, and cows. When not writing she spends her time staring at immense amounts of rain, herding old people (similar to herding cats) and attempting to stay out of trouble. Especially that last is difficult for her.

She is the author of the The Rylee Adamson Novels, The Nevermore Trilogy, A Celtic Legacy series and several contemporary romances.

Please visit her website at http://www.shannonmayer.com for more information on her novels.
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"My name is Rylee and I am a Tracker."

When children go missing, and the Humans have no leads, I'm the one they call. I am their last hope in bringing home the lost ones. I salvage what they cannot.

The clock is ticking and I can feel the weight of the final battle with the demon hordes looming over my head. The puzzle pieces are becoming clearer, but the casualty list is growing. And with each name that is added to those we've lost, my confidence cracks a little more.

Yet there is hope.

A child saved.

A life lost.

A prophecy fulfilled.


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Rather than have a list of Q & A as I’ve seen oh-so-many-times-and-looks-rather-dry (similar to a succession of popcorn farts), I thought I’d do something a little different.

I thought I’d tell you a story about a girl who loved horses and believed in magic. She grew up in a family of mixed nuts, seven kids in total from a variety of marriages, and to date none of the kids would be deemed ‘normal’, herself included. As she got older, she told people that she believed in magic and they shushed her and said that magic wasn’t real, to stop being silly. They told her, that she needed to get her head out of the clouds, and out of the books. So she told them she loved horses and everyone thought she should pursue a career with animals.

Soon, she stopped telling anyone about the magic she saw and dreamed about, and everyone just thought she loved horses. I mean, that’s even what she went to school for, working with horses. The girl became a farrier (and if you ask her clients they all think she did a smashingly good job), shoeing horses for a living. Hell, she even met a cute boy at college (something she’d previously not managed to do regardless of her raging hormones and batting of her eyelashes). They fell in love, and got married. Now this is where things get interesting. The twist in the story if you will.

The boy she married, he was pretty smart. He could see that there was something more to her than just loving horses.

He could see the magic she kept so carefully hidden; and he believed in her magic.

And he told her to use it.

Now that was a scary time for her, learning to use that magic. She made mistakes, people laughed at her, and at times she almost gave up. But that cute boy kept cheering her on, and now . . .well, now the story is pretty simple.

She makes magic every day, for a living, with the words she writes, spinning stories and creating worlds out of nothing but the belief she has in her heart. The cute boy still cheers her on, and she still loves horses, but now . . . .now the people around her realize that magic isn’t that far away. Not if you know what you’re looking for.

Rylee Adamson Interview

My name is Rylee. I don’t like it when people use my last name, it reminds me of where I’m from and the people who turned on me. I was adopted as a baby into a family where they couldn’t have children naturally. But when I was ten, my parents got a surprise. A miracle baby, a little girl with golden hair and bright blue eyes.

When I was sixteen, I was accused of killing her; our parents believed the police. But I don’t really want to talk about that as it was over ten years ago. I’m trying to let it go.

I’m a Tracker, a supernatural who can trace anyone’s life threads finding them regardless of whether they’re dead or alive. I prefer alive, dead is messy, but so often that is the case. I’m also an Immune, magic slides off me as if I don’t exist. That is handy.

Gods, I’m sweating here trying not to swear. Are you sure I can’t use at least one four letter word? No, of course not.

I never Track adults. They can bloody well take care of themselves. I only ever Track kids. Probably I’m trying to make up for not saving my sister. But I’ll leave that up to the psychologists out there to decipher my motives.

Alex is my buddy, a werewolf trapped between forms; half man, half wolf. Submissive, goofy and loyal to the bone he is the one spot of bright light in my life. I think you’d like him the best of the two of us. I know I can be a hard ass, I can’t seem to help it. But Alex has never met someone he couldn’t win over with a floppy wave of his oversized paws. He might not be the best back-up, but he makes me smile and in my world, that is enough.

Someone once asked me what it was like to Track kids for parents who had no one else to turn to, for parents who’d lost hope that their child would ever be returned to them.

This was my answer: It’s a weight and a responsibility that sits on me, I took an oath that I would never stop Tracking lost children. That I would put my life on the line for those who can’t save themselves, and that I would fight to my last breath to keep a child alive.

And I wouldn’t have it any other way.

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