The Other Lamb by Katie Young

Check out Katie Young’s new paranormal-horror novel “The Other Lamb” courtesy of Curiosity Quills Press!

The Other Lamb, by Katie Young
Genre: fantasy, paranormal-horror
Publisher: Curiosity Quills Press
Date of Publication: August 28th, 2014.
Cover Artist: Polina Sapershteyn

About The Book:

Incarcerated on Earth as punishment for breeding with humans, the Watchers found a way to escape. Zach is living proof of that…even though someone has cut out his heart.

When Zach turns eighteen he develops an insatiable thirst for blood, but he tries to bury his fears and go on enjoying his birthday. His best friend Kim has scored them tickets to the hottest gig in town. But a charged encounter with his idol, the enigmatic rock star known as Grigory, leads to a revelation that shatters everything Zach thinks he knows about himself and the world, and places everyone dear to him in grave danger.

Zach is a Naphil, the forbidden offspring of a mortal woman and a Watcher. When those who seek to destroy him snatch Kim, Zach is forced to embark on a journey of discovery spanning continents and ages. With the help of a mysterious stranger named Sam, Zach must unearth the truth about his parentage, find Kim, and discover who has stolen his heart…before he triggers the apocalypse.

Excerpt:

Azazel has no concept of how long he has been pinned down in the chasm when the whispers start. At first he weeps, for the voices make him return to his body, and his body is pain. But that’s not the worst of it. Azazel taught himself to be absent. His mind retreated to darkness and silence many years ago. That was the only way. If he could forget, he could be at peace. Only now, there are voices saying his name, forcing him back into his flesh, dragging him towards hurting and remembering. Each muscle spasm, every shifting of splintered bone, the cold, hard press of rock on his raw skin reminds him. The shocks and stabs, and cramps and twinges seem to drum out the only word which ever mattered: Samyaza.

He cannot be sure when it starts. It could be his mind playing cruel tricks, the synapses in his dormant brain firing. But then it becomes more frequent. After so many years of complete solitude, his own name sounds strange.

“Azazel.”

The tongue sounds different when compared to the languages that he remembers from before he was put in the chasm, but the voices are human.

“For Azazel. Oh Lord, I have acted iniquitously, trespassed, sinned before Thee…”

Other noises follow the words. Scratching and knocking. Swift bursts of activity disturb the ground above him, and then silence reigns again, leaving Azazel to wonder whether his sanity has deserted him. Perhaps his broken mind conjures the voices as a form of perpetual torture, summoning him back to damned consciousness each time he finds himself on the verge of oblivion.

One day, however, when the whispers resume, the following commotion goes on for longer than usual. As well as the now familiar prayers, Azazel’s own name filters down through the dirt, and a thud impacts the ground over his head. The sound makes his inert body start, and at once every nerve ending sings in exquisite pain. This is the most alive he’s been in thousands of years. All is quiet for a while, and then the noises resume. Something scrabbling over shale. Then, a faint bleating noise. An animal.

Azazel concentrates, using the pain, focusing on it. He sniffs, his nostrils flaring at his brain’s command, though his eyes burn with the effort. But there it is. Weak, but most definitely present, tiny particles seep through the soil and coat the inside of his nose. The scent of blood. The smell seems to intensify. Little sounds drift through the rock, but soon they stop altogether. Still, the phantom odour persists until Azazel’s stomach growls with acute, acidic hunger. Fresh Hell.

Another sound now, quiet but well-defined against the stillness of his tomb. The sound of liquid trickling through channels and cracks in the rock. The smell gets stronger. A warm, wet substance drips on his face, jolting his body again. This time, his long-seized vocal chords try to cry out in agony. There is blood, sustenance, within his reach. He tries to move his head, to tilt and angle it, so that the blood diverts towards his parched lips. One maddening splash after the other seeps through the earth. He wills his dry tongue to move, to extend, but he cannot work any of the mechanisms involved. His body will not obey. He inhales again, his shattered ribs scraping his dusty lungs, but this time he achieves the desired effect. Some part of him remembers appetite, and the desiccated glands in his mouth try to wake up. His papery lips part, only a fraction, but it is enough. A few drops of the animal blood—goat, he can smell now—land on his top lip and trickle down onto his teeth. Behind them, his tongue is waiting.

Purchase: Amazon US | Amazon UK | B&N | Kobo

About The Author:

Katie Young is a writer and occasional zombie movie ‘supporting artiste’. She also works in kids’ TV but wishes she were a rock star. She has various shorts available for download from Ether Books, and features in anthologies from Collaboration of the Dead Press, Angelic Knight Press, Indigo Mosaic, Song Stories Press, Static Movement and Fox Spirit Books. Her story, Atelic, was shortlisted for the 2010 Writers’ & Artists’ Year Book short fiction prize, and she is a regular contributor to the Are You Sitting Comfortably? story-telling events run by White Rabbit. Katie also writes TV reviews for The Cult Den. The Other Lamb is her first novel. She lives in South East London with her partner and a second-hand cat. She is not a natural redhead.