What if the next new drug was you? Raleigh’s body produces a drug that could define the future of medicine if the dangerous world surrounding it doesn’t kill her first.
Eighteen-year old Raleigh Groves can sense disease in others and is suffering from her own unexplained illness as well. After years and dozens of doctor visits, she has given up hope of ever finding a cure, let alone a diagnosis. Then she meets a man who explains that her talent and curse are linked. Her body produces a drug, Lucidin, which allows her to sense others. She’s rare, and the drug she makes is coveted.
Rho has spent the last few years on the run. The Lucidin that is racing through his system makes him a target. Surrounded by addicts and dealers on one side and scientists and doctors on the other, he has to rely on his wits and his team to stay one step ahead. So far he has stayed afloat, but some of his brothers haven’t been as lucky.
As Rho and Raleigh collide they must face the perilous world of Lucidin together. Nothing is black-and-white and Raleigh must decide where her alliances lie. Sometimes the hardest heart to sense is your own.
How I write my characters:
When
I start a book I’m never positive how a character will turn out. I
write them in different scenarios to get a feel for their voice and
how they behave. Some characters that have started out sweet end up
with a little bit of a dark side. I try to make my characters
dimensional. I don’t like reading stories where people fit into too
neat of boxes. I like to think that my characters surprise the reader
at times while still staying true to themselves.
The best and worse part about being a writer:
I
think the absolute best part about being a writer is the chance to
put a story to paper. You start with nothing and in the end you have
a world complete with people and events. A good story to me is one
that is both entertaining and lets the reader develop their own
opinions about the different topics presented. There are two things I
find challenging about being a writer. The first is the distraction
of having stories bouncing around my head. Sometimes I don’t have
the right characters to tell my stories, or the proper scenarios to
get my point across. It can be frustrating to work out these details.
The second challenge is putting myself out there. It is a very
humbling experience to have someone read what I’ve written. People
get a peek into my thought process, and complete strangers get to
experience something I’ve poured my heart into. That can be a very
humbling and sometimes scary process.
My reading habits:
I
enjoy reading, I’m sure most writers do. I’m one of those people
that has trouble putting down a good book. I have a reading nook at
my house. Usually it covered in a mess of children’s books. My kids
love to be read too. Most of them are old, tattered things that I had
when I was growing up. Some of them are missing pages, so I
improvise. I hate letting go of books, and my basement is a testament
to that. There are boxes of science books and pharmacology books from
when I was in school, mysteries from my high school years, and
sci-fiction, my current passion of late. Occasionally I reread one,
and am not only swept into the world of the book, but to the time
when I first read it.
Rho took a long breath and sighed with relief. Unlike most prisons,
his had no bars or locked gates. The drugs and fatigue were enough to
trap him in his own body—but not for much longer. He would make his
escape today. His captors were unlikely to lower the extraction and
sedative dose any more than they just had, so he had to make his
move. He would do it tonight, when the second team came to check on
him.
Today
was the first day in a long time that he was aware of each and every
moment. He darted his eyes across the room. A small seagull was
preening itself on the windowsill. One of the guards had once asked
why there weren’t bars on the window. The answer was that the drop
would likely kill Rho, and even if he survived the current would pull
him under. Occasionally he’d heard people speaking in French, and
he figured that he must be somewhere along the French coast.
Knowing
that he could die while making his escape, he savored the hours. Part
of him wanted to reflect on his life, but he pushed those thoughts
out of his mind as soon as they arose. Those thoughts too closely
resembled grieving, and he wasn’t about to grieve the life that he
was fighting to save….
The
sunset was particularly beautiful. Mauve and azure hues playfully
painted his room, as though Mother Nature wasn’t aware of the
suffering he endured. Maybe she was aware of his suffering—and glad
to see it. After all, he was an affront to her.
Rho
heard voices as the evening pair opened the door to his room. Of all
the teams, Rho was most familiar with this one. These two talked the
most, and the young man had once taken a phone call in the room, but
he was swiftly reprimanded by the old man. The young, unsure little
attendant asked a lot of questions, and although the old man seemed
to be aggravated by his companion’s inquires, he always answered.
“The
morning crew said he was doing poorly,” the old man said in a sure,
deep voice.
“They
turned down the machine again. He’s not giving us as much Lucid,”
noted the young man as he retrieved the vials.
“From
the look of his vitals, he’ll only last a few more days.”
“He’s
going to die, isn’t he?” asked the young man. Despite his current
job, he wasn’t the heartless kind.
“The
world will be better off. He’s dangerous. They’re monsters…all
of them. Don’t let his angelic looks fool you. He’s the devil.”
Rho
wasn’t sure if the last part was true, but the part about him being
dangerous certainly was.
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