A year and a half later, and I can finally say, the 3rd book in the Excalibur Saga will be published the end of August.  YAY!  Leaving my old publisher, than re-editing and recovering my older books took more time than I realized.  Karrin has been patiently waiting, and now, her voice will be heard.  The whole Excalibur Saga has evolved from a dark urban fantasy with a twist of sci-fi into a dark, urban, sci-fi fantasy. 

Here is my new cover.  What do you think?  Would you buy the book based on the cover and does it tell it’s genre? The 4th and last book, Karrin: Warrior Woman, will be coming out in October.

A 6-year-old orphan.

A ruthless bounty hunter.

Found washed up on a beach with no memory and only a name engraved on a bracelet, 6-year-old Karrin finds herself in the ‘Home.’  A dark and terrible place for unwanted children. Befriended by Cook, Karrin escapes the horrors faced by her fellow cellmates.

However, the little girl comes from a unique family with silver power.  Fear of that power put a price on her life and an alien bounty hunter has been hired to finish the job.

Who hired the Greatest Ispepyein Warrior to kill a defenseless child? How will Cook protect the little girl from the relentless monster on their trail?

Here is an excerpt.  Bare in mind, it hasn’t been to my editor yet. 

CHAPTER FOUR

The hulking, snarling woman wrapped her meaty hand around Karrin’s thin, upper arm, and dragged her relentlessly down the hallway.  The little girl’s sandal-clad feet skittered from step to step as she stumbled down a set of concrete stairs. With each jolt and jar, it felt like her arm was being ripped out of the socket.  Karrin bit her lip, trying not to cry out in pain.

When they hit the bottom of the stairs, the woman called ‘Cook’ took off with long strides, walking so fast, the lit rooms passed by in a blur.  Tiny legs pumping to keep up with the longer legs, they barreled through a wide, white door where they came to an abrupt halt. The room was brightly lit, and Karrin squinted from the glare. 

Once her eyes adjusted, she gasped at the enormous room.  The opposite walls were hazy and far away, and the ceiling was taller than she could throw a rock. With another painful tug on her frail arm, the terrified six-year-old was hauled over to a huge table that overflowed with papers, knives, and other items she couldn’t identify.

The meaty hand released her arm, and reached for a bulky, collar hanging from an overhead rack.  Bending over, the towering woman snapped the thick band around Karrin’s slender neck and locked it with a click of a padlock. 

Karrin swallowed around the pressure on her windpipe, the weight of the neckband heavy on her stooped shoulders.  Do they think I’m a dog?

Hands on broad hips, the towering woman scowled at Karrin.  “Retard, I’m Cook.  As of today, you belong to me.  I own you.  I have other half-wits working for me, so I know some of you can work.  If you prove your worth, I’ll make sure you get fed and took care of.  No more harassment from those twat-diseased, bitch guards.  You understand?  This is my kitchen, and NOBODY messes with me in my kitchen.  Not even Warden, or Matron.”

She reached out a finger and tapped it against Karrin’s collar.  “See that little red circle?  That is a bomb.  If you wander outside of my kitchen, it’ll blow your head clean off.”  She emphasized her point by fanning out her fingers in a radius around her head, saying “Kapow!”

Karrin flinched, face white with fright.

Cook laughed cruelly. “So, if I ain’t looking, and you think you can sneak out the door and run, go right ahead.  I got plenty more collars and each year we get more and more of you retards.”

Karrin stared at the other black, leather collars hanging from the rack.  They each had a red, marble-sized stone on them.  The image of her head blowing off made her want to cross her legs; afraid she was going to pee.  Transfixed by the neck-bombs, she stood, trembling.

The oversized cook leaned over, staring into Karrin’s face, a merciless smile crossing her thin lips.  She nodded.  “Now I got your attention, you listen up.  These are my rules.  When I tell you to do something, you MOVE, you got that, half-wit? 

“If you’re too stupid to understand, or can’t figure out how to do something, you just stand there until I ask you why you ain’t moving.  When you answer me, you best be respectful and call me ‘Cook.’  I won’t tolerate no backtalk. If you got a question, raise your hand.  But be warned, this is the only place in the Home where questions are allowed.

“If you see something burning, or somebody is bleeding, you yell out ‘Fire, Cook’, or “Trouble, Cook.’ You don’t just stand there, watching like the idiot you are.”  She squinted at Karrin.  “Well, I knows you can hear.  Best be seeing if you can talk.  Can you talk, girl?”

Karrin was afraid to talk or move her head.  What if I set off the bomb? Faint memories of an explosion and her body flying through the air caused tears to form. She squeezed her eyes shut, fighting back the unwanted tears. No crying allowed.

She jumped, eyelids flying open at the touch of Cook’s hand on her shoulder.  “Don’t worry, girl.  You’ll not be blowing up by moving.  Only if you try to escape out the door.  So, can you talk or not?”

“Yes, Cook,” she whispered, barely moving her lips.

The intimidating woman snorted.  “Hmph!  Guess that’ll do.  Last retard Matron stuck me with couldn’t hear or talk.  The only thing she was good for was scrubbing the walls and floors.”

Cook turned to her overflowing table and shuffled some papers around until she found what she wanted.  She glared at the note in her hand.  “Looks like you’re on the dinner shift for today.  We’re having mashed potatoes tonight.  Your job is to load and unload that machine over there until all the potatoes are done.”

Karrin’s gaze flicked to where Cook was pointing, then her eyes widened at all the five-gallon buckets full of potatoes. She counted up to fifty-five before Cook interrupted her, snapping her fingers a few times in front of Karrin’s face.

“Listen up. Once you’re done peeling the potatoes, I’ll show you how to boil them.  I don’t talk for nothing.  You listen and learn, or I cut you up for stew.  It’s been done before.  You understand me?”

“Yes, Cook,” she answered, staring into Cook’s brown, unforgiving eyes.

Cook gave a curt nod.  “Come on then, let’s get you busy.”

Still afraid of setting off the neck-bomb, Karrin walked with stiff arms and legs as she followed the foreboding woman. They stopped at a white drum that resembled a giant-sized, old-style washing machine. 

It has room enough for me and three of my friends to have a tea party in.  Karrin sighed, her heart aching when she remembered she didn’t have any friends.

Cook turned, thick brows furrowed as she studied her new helper. “I don’t like trusting no retard, but my best two girls went over to sixteen and got sent out to the farms. So I need helpers, bad.  But, I’ll be keeping my eyes on you.  Now, all you gotta do is dump the buckets of potatoes into the drum, until they reach this line here. Then, you close the lid and turn this handle here, and watch.”

Karrin stared at the machine, not sure if she was supposed to move or not.

“Well, come on girl,” Cook said with an impatient motion to the buckets, “pour those potatoes in there.  I don’t have all day to show you.”

Cook watched the little girl, skinny arms trembling, as she struggled with a bucketful of potatoes that weighed as much as her.   Bending her knees, she braced the bucket against the outside of the drum. She shoved it upwards, inch-by-inch, until it reached the rim, then tipped the bucket, potatoes thumping to the bottom of the drum.  A few spilled over the side and bounced to the white, tiled floor.

Arms crossed under her breasts, Cook nodded.  “You done well.  You’re strong for such a whip of a girl.  You just be sure every one of those potatoes ends up in the machine.  You’ll get better at it as you go along.”

With a determined gleam in her eyes, Karrin took the empty bucket and turned it upside down. She picked up a full one, and stepping up, dumped the potatoes into the drum.  Every one made it into the machine.  She turned to Cook with a triumphant grin.

Cook snorted.  “Hmph!  Not bad for a little retard.  That’s enough potatoes, girl, turn her on.”

Karrin moved the handle and the machine began to turn and shake with a loud rumbling noise.  Fascinated, she peered into the window and watched the potatoes tumble around, water pouring in through a hole at the top.  The inside walls of the drum had a coating like sandpaper, and as the potatoes were thrown against the walls, they were peeled.

After a minute, Cook shut off the machine and opened the lid.  Reaching inside, she picked up a perfectly peeled potato and held it in front of Karrin.  “Okay, girl, when they look like this, shut her off.  Don’t let them keep going, or else they’ll peel themselves down to nothing.  When you get all these potatoes done, come and find me.  Now, get busy.” The terrifying cook stomped away.

Karrin surveyed the fifty-five buckets of overflowing potatoes.  The burns on her feet and knees stung like crazy from the two buckets she already did. All she wanted to do was curl up in a ball and cry from the pain. However, crying and whining weren’t allowed here.

With a resigned sigh, she began taking out the peeled potatoes.  She found a smaller one which reminded her of an apple. Peering at Cook, she noticed she wasn’t being watched, so she took a tiny bite. It didn’t taste as good as an apple, but it was something to eat. Soon, her stomach quit rumbling.  

***

Cook sat hunched over her cluttered table, writing instructions for the dinner meal.  She had four meals a day to prepare, breakfast, lunch, dinner, and late dinner, which was midnight.  The late dinner meal was reserved for the girls working in the drug processing plant in the sewers. Since the plant ran twenty-four hours, seven days a week, her kitchen ran day and night. 

Breakfast was easy as it was always the same, oatmeal, bread, and water.  Lunch and dinner were the challenges, as they varied from day-to-day. The midnight meal consisted of that day’s leftovers.

Chewing on the end of her pen, eyebrows furrowed, she was debating over how to prepare the meat: hamburger or shredded, when her phone beeped.   With a huff, she picked up the ear-fob and adjusted it in her ear.  This better be important.  I’m too fucking busy. 

As she listened, her lips became thinner, her eyes squinting.  After a few minutes, she snarled, “Listen, cousin.  I don’t give a flying fuck about the Boys Home.  I ain’t got the help I need to get my own work done.  I lost two of my best fifteen-year-olds, and all Matron gave me to replace them was a half-wit.” 

She listened some more, tapping her pen louder and louder on the table.  “All right, all right,” she growled. “Send them over.  I’ll try to figure it out and get back to you later. But you warn them boys, I ain’t putting up with none of their shit.”

She flung the ear-piece on her desk in irritation. God, just what I need today.  Not only am I short-staffed, now I got to feed the fucking Boys Home too. 

Leave it to her cousin the Warden, and her sister the Matron to concoct another scheme to put more coins in their pockets.  Even the asshole Master of the Boys Home was in on it. 

They want to shut down his kitchen and run all their meals through mine.  And I get stuck with all the work.

“The bastards need to take better care of the kids instead of trying to cheat every credit into their accounts. If they did, half the problems around here would disappear overnight,” she grumbled. Especially the drug processing plant, which she despised. 

When had everything turned so bad? With a heavy heart, she knew the answer. After her sister became Matron. All that power went to her sister’s head. She started indulging herself in ways Cook didn’t want to think about. It was disgusting, but Matron was her sister, so she turned a blind eye. Besides, Matron and Warden were as thick as thieves.

That’s exactly what they became. Thieves. Cook hated the stealing and scheming by her sister and cousin. Every penny Cook stashed in her account was legit. 

She leaned back in her chair and looked over her domain. Maybe it was time for a change. The problem was, she really did enjoy the challenge of meal preps and cooking for a large body of people.

Where else would I go? I’m too old to start over. Like Matron, she’d spent most of her adult life here. Her reason for coming here was different, though. She squirmed in her chair and fiddled with the pen, not wanting to think about the past. In exasperation, she threw the pen on the desk. Okay. Okay. I know why I came here. To hide. To hide from him and what I couldn’t give him.

Her throat tightened up, eyes prickling with unshed tears. She swiped at her eyes, refusing to rehash her past once again. The deep of night, when she was unable to sleep, was the only time she allowed herself to relive her choice. Right or wrong.

Out of the corner of her eye, Cook saw her newly acquired retard stuff another potato in her mouth. She shrugged. Usually, she would’ve cuffed the girl for stealing, but she was just too busy to care.

The girl stepped up on the bucket, and winced, then started taking out the peeled potatoes. Cook frowned, narrowing her eyes in anger.

Look at all those burn marks. Those bitches for guards got her good last night. It’s a wonder she can work at all. Matron might’ve made a mistake this time. That girl ain’t as stupid as everyone thinks. Hell, she figured out how to get around being too short.

Right then, as Karrin was stepping off the upside-down bucket, her foot slipped on the wet floor and she went tumbling to the floor. Her eyes and mouth as round as saucers as peeled potatoes rolled across the floor. 

It was such a comical sight. Cook hurriedly put her head down on her crossed arms, trying to hide her laughter. Images of other girls, including herself, doing precisely the same thing made her chuckle some more.

My, that’d been funny. I haven’t laughed that hard for some time.  But, I’ve got to get back to work.  I’ve got 417 more mouths to feed every day.  Still chuckling, she wiped her eyes, and went back to working on her menus.

Several minutes later, a short, thin guard stood fidgeting next to her table.  Cook looked up with a frown. “Hmph!”

The guard cleared her throat and shifted her feet.  “Uh, excuse me, Cook, I’m new.  The ratter crew be back.  Uh, where do you want them?” Revulsion flickered across her ugly face.

With lightning quick motion, Cook grabbed a gleaming, long butcher knife off her table and pointed it across the room.  “Same damn place they been going for the forty years I’ve been here, you idiot!”  She grinned in satisfaction when she saw terror reflected in the guard’s brown eyes. Best to instill the fear of God from the start. 

The guard flinched and backed up a few steps, her frightened eyes glued to the very sharp looking knife.  “Uh, yes, Cook,” she stammered before turning and rushing off, back stiff, like she had a bull’s eye painted on it.

Cook grunted again and shook her head. I swear, some of these new guards are dumber than the half-wits.  She glanced over at her new helper, a smirk on her lips.  Okay, little retard. Let’s see how you like raw rat meat.  Eat my potatoes, will you?

First, she had to take care of the bullshit the Master of the Boys Home was trying to pull.  She picked up the earpiece and keyed in the number for Warden. 

As soon as the connection went through, she gruffly said, “That bastard at the Boys Home can set his schedule according to ours.  I ain’t changing nothin’ for him.  We eat at 6:00 and 6:00.” Jabbing savagely at the off button, she disconnected the call.   She looked up to see the little dimwit standing in front of her desk.  “What?!” Cook bellowed as she scowled at her.

The little girl blinked her odd colored eyes at her.  They were a strange blue color that changed to silver when she moved her head. “Potatoes are done, Cook,” she said calmly.

“Okay, I’ll put them on to boil.  I got another job for you,” Cook said with a jeering grin.  “Follow me, girl.”  She took off across the vast room, the girl trailing behind, almost running to keep up with Cook’s longer strides.

The massive woman stopped in front of a wide, wooden door with a small window mounted up near the top. So far up Karrin couldn’t see into the room, even on her tiptoes. Stepping to a rack full of rubber aprons, Cook selected one and put it on.  She riffled through a few more before she found a smaller one and handed it to Karrin. 

The apron was the size of a blanket compared to the little girl. Cook snickered as her helper fought with the cumbersome garment before she finally got it fastened around her small frame.

Pulling the shiny, chrome handle, Cook opened the door and stepped inside.  

If you haven’t read book one or two yet, you can get caught up on the series below.  If you have read them, tell me what you think.  Would you buy he next two in the series?