Sneak Peek

Here's a preview of the first page of the book. 

   Aletheia held the covers close to her, tight under her arms like a plush toy that she might have owned as a child. She’d been awake the better part of an hour but couldn’t quite bring herself to place foot on the floor and get out of bed. Last night was another bout of bad dreams and, as if that wasn’t bad enough, Jake nearly forgot to say goodbye again. She startled awake once she heard the door shut. That was when she tore out of the bedroom and then ran out on to the porch barefoot, catching him just as he headed up the walkway towards the old yellow Honda Civic.
“Sorry,” Jake mumbled, sandy brown hair sliding over thick and square black glasses. “So tired, I only got two hours sleep last night, I totally spaced.”
Aletheia wrapped her arms around him. He hugged her with one arm and gave her a peck on the cheek and that was enough to put her in the fetal position under the covers for the next three hours.
Aletheia rolled over and grabbed her phone. She had four missed calls from Arturo and a text message from Thalia. Arturo left no voicemail message but Thalia had responded to Aletheia’s text, Sea slugs and synapses trump girlfriends, with her characteristic graciousness: You know we love you, dear. xoxo. 
Aletheia smiled then and slid out of bed; God, but she treasured her mornings alone. Between her, Jake, and Steve, the house often felt very crowded in the evenings. Steve was their housemate and a member of Jake’s cohort and if ever there was a person to make a place feel crowded, it would be him, eating her food, interrupting their television watching, and invading Aletheia’s precious catch-up time with Jake. In the mornings, though, Aletheia had the place to herself. As she sat on the soft gray couch sipping her coffee, she relished the sanctity of her own thoughts and yet the four missed calls from Arturo nagged at her. She picked up her phone to call him back but his phone went into voicemail after the first ring, the telltale sign that he was already at work. She’d have to wait.
She didn’t want to wait.
She’d have to wait.
No, she’d have to check her feed, she supposed, such that it was. Too early to wade through all of that and really, she ought not to worry, things were so much calmer these days, but no, best to make sure, best to give herself that peace of mind.

Aletheia should have waited.

The only new posting from Arturo was a news article, and with the news article came a comment, and it was really the comment that stopped her in her tracks: when will the NOPD protect us instead of treating us as dispensable? I’ll miss you, sweetie. She hadn’t known the first two very well, three and then two months ago, the first one shocking and unsettling and the second, well, the second one everyone got a little bit nervous, but when no one died the following month, the remaining tarot readers in the square breathed more freely—until now. Aletheia read the article headline, Another Fortune Teller Slaughtered, and, hand trembling, clicked the link.
Thalia Moore, 32, was found dead on the corner of Bourbon Street and Barracks Street at 6:32 this morning.
Aletheia dropped the phone. It spiraled out of her hand, spinning slowly until the rug swallowed it up with a thud. Aletheia was still. For a long time she was still and then for a long time she was drowning and then she thought, What if they find out?