Firebird, Chapter 19

Wahoo! Firebird’s pre-order page is live and set to release February 1st!

Well, the Amazon pre-order page is up, anyway. Will work on Kobo tonight.

Anyway, I’m excited. I should be getting Firebird’s manuscript back from the beta reader at some point today/tonight, and then I will tinker with it until I send it off to the editor on the 20th.

I can’t resist the tinkering. It has to be perfect.

Here’s the preorder link:

And here’s a chapter with one of my favorite characters (Hah! They’re all my favorite!).



The deal’s off.”

Robin looked up from a Physics quiz. Her mother stood at the end of her room, framed by the doorway, arms crossed in front of her. The light from the living room caught the stray hairs around her pony tail. Shadows bagged under her eyes.

It was 4 a.m. and she’d just got off shift.

What?” Robin asked. “What do you mean.”

The deal’s off. I don’t want you outside.”

Robin’s eyes widened. “What? But I’m almost done!”

I don’t care. You’re not going outside.”

Her mom turned to leave.

Wait—” Robin shoved her desk chair back, stood up. The room spun at the sudden movement, but she ignored it. “Why?”

Mom’s shoes squeaked as she walked into the kitchen. A vitamin drink and a pre-cooked meal sat on the counter.

She lifted an eyebrow at Robin. “Haven’t you heard the news? Terremain fell.”

Robin stopped in her tracks. “Fell? When?”

Yesterday.” Light spilled across the floor as she opened the fridge door. “Your brother will arrive tomorrow—” She glanced at the clock. “—Wednesday, that is. And you are not going out.”

But…” Robin gripped the edge of the counter. Terremain had fallen. What did that mean? Was the war coming here?

There will be soldiers in town. Heavy military. And they’re not all as nice as your brother. I don’t want you wandering the streets.” She tugged a loose piece of hair behind her ear. “Besides, the hospital’s already bumped up hours. I won’t have time to deal with your shi—stuff.”

Shit. Mom was going to say shit. A lump formed in her throat. Great to know what she felt.

Right, so I should just stop studying?”

I didn’t say you should stop studying.”

But what’s the point? I’m grounded either way.”

Her mom rummaged around the cupboard. “Maybe you should stop thinking about instant gratification for once and start thinking long term. You’re just about done high school. What about your future? College? University?”

Robin’s lips twisted into a grim smile. “Maybe I’ll be a soldier, like Daniel. Bet there’s gonna be a huge demand for them.”

Her mom put a cup down on the counter a little too hard. Her eyes flashed.


Don’t what, Mom?”

You know what. Cram the attitude.”

Or what, you’ll ground me? Fuck.”


Robin rolled her eyes. “Fuck, shit, piss, dick, damn.”

Her mom lifted an arm, pointed a finger. “Room. Now.”

Fine.” She pushed off the counter, turned back to her room. The electric beat of her playlist was just audible through the door.

She slammed it hard enough to rattle the picture frame.

Fine,” she repeated as she slumped back into her desk chair. The physics book lay open at the place she’d left it.

She thumped it closed, spun the chair around. Her band posters were back, looking down on her from their taped-up positions on the walls. Punk, grunge metal, electric. The beats of the rebellion. Her gaze dropped to the corner of her bed, where her quilt had bunched up with a pile of clothes. Her gun lay under there, its chamber empty, metal edges hard, straight, and solid.

As she turned back to the book, a calm resolve took over. She put it on the floor, cleared the space on her desk, and opened her laptop. News feeds popped up as she activated the messaging program.

She frowned, clicked on them.

It was time to learn as much as she could about the war.

Did you like chapter? Don’t miss out on Firebird’s special pre-order pricing, only 99 cents!


Available on Amazon

Bookmark the permalink.


  1. Pre-ordered. It’ll go nicely with Into the Fire.
    And at the top of the page, the link is missing.
    Thanks for sharing.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *