This is the final stop for What Kills Me Tour (by Dark Mind Book Tours)!!
Welcome to Darkest Sins, Wynne!
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| (Wynne Channing) |
Wynne Channing is an award-winning national newspaper reporter and young adult novelist. She loves telling stories and as a journalist, she has interviewed everyone from Daniel Radcliffe and Hugh Jackman to the president of the Maldives and Duchess Sarah Ferguson. The closest she has come to interviewing a vampire is sitting down with True Blood’s Alexander Skarsgard (he didn’t bite). She briefly considered calling her debut novel “Well” so then everyone would say: “Well written by Wynne Channing.”
Here you can read the book summary: An ancient prophecy warns of a girl destined to cause the extinction of the vampire race. So when 17-year-old Axelia falls into a sacred well filled with blood and emerges a vampire, the immortal empire believes she is this legendary destroyer. Hunted by soldiers and mercenaries, Axelia and her reluctant ally, the vampire bladesmith Lucas, must battle to survive. How will she convince the empire that she is just an innocent teenager-turned bloodsucker and not a creature of destruction? And if she cannot, can a vampire who is afraid of bugs summon the courage to fight a nation of immortals?
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WHAT KILLS ME EXCERPT
USED WITH PERMISSION, COPYRIGHT 2012 WYNNE CHANNING
Chapter 1
What Kills Me is certainly a book worth reading, have a look at
WHAT KILLS ME EXCERPT
USED WITH PERMISSION, COPYRIGHT 2012 WYNNE CHANNING
A human girl will be re-born a
vampire. She will shed the blood of all who walk in darkness and bring about
the death of the entire vampire race.
vampire. She will shed the blood of all who walk in darkness and bring about
the death of the entire vampire race.
—Ancient vampire prophecy
Chapter 1
The sun’s down. I am so dead.
I walked out of the bakery with a box of cannoli
balanced in my hands and when I saw the dark sky, my smile faded. I
shouldered my way through the crowds and rushed into a piazza. The clock on the
church tower read 9:25 p.m. I rounded the fountain in the center of the square,
my flip flops slapping at my heels. I shifted my box of pastries so that it was
under my arm like a football and quickened my pace.
balanced in my hands and when I saw the dark sky, my smile faded. I
shouldered my way through the crowds and rushed into a piazza. The clock on the
church tower read 9:25 p.m. I rounded the fountain in the center of the square,
my flip flops slapping at my heels. I shifted my box of pastries so that it was
under my arm like a football and quickened my pace.
Sofia is going to kill me. When I left
the house at 7:30 p.m., I had told her that I’d be only twenty minutes. But I’d
lost track of time wandering the narrow cobblestone streets, snapping pictures.
So far, I wasn’t being a good guest in her home. Two days ago, I had
accidentally used dishwasher soap in her laundry machine, producing a titanic
bubble bath. This was not the way to redeem myself.
the house at 7:30 p.m., I had told her that I’d be only twenty minutes. But I’d
lost track of time wandering the narrow cobblestone streets, snapping pictures.
So far, I wasn’t being a good guest in her home. Two days ago, I had
accidentally used dishwasher soap in her laundry machine, producing a titanic
bubble bath. This was not the way to redeem myself.
A few people sat on the stone stairs around the
fountain. A bearded man plucked at a guitar and nodded his head. A woman
reclined against her boyfriend, her hands on his knees as if they were the arms
of a chair.
fountain. A bearded man plucked at a guitar and nodded his head. A woman
reclined against her boyfriend, her hands on his knees as if they were the arms
of a chair.
One young man stood alone on the top of the stairs.
His hands were in the pockets of a charcoal coat with an asymmetrical zipper
that cut across his chest. His face was backlit against the street lamps, but I
knew that he was staring at me. He had such rigid posture that nothing but his
head moved as he watched me cross the square.
His hands were in the pockets of a charcoal coat with an asymmetrical zipper
that cut across his chest. His face was backlit against the street lamps, but I
knew that he was staring at me. He had such rigid posture that nothing but his
head moved as he watched me cross the square.
I dropped my gaze. The straps of my backpack dug
into my shoulders and shifted my T-shirt. I tugged at the hem so that the
Canadian flag was centered in the middle of my chest. He probably wants to
rob me. My father had warned me about pickpockets in Rome. A few days
before my trip, he had come into my room with a bulgy blue fanny pack: “To keep
your valuables safe.”
into my shoulders and shifted my T-shirt. I tugged at the hem so that the
Canadian flag was centered in the middle of my chest. He probably wants to
rob me. My father had warned me about pickpockets in Rome. A few days
before my trip, he had come into my room with a bulgy blue fanny pack: “To keep
your valuables safe.”
From the corner of my eye I could still see the
man’s face pointed in my direction, and I heard my best friend’s voice in my
head. Zee, he’s checking you out. See if he’s hot. Ryka had encouraged
me to have a summer fling. The only fling I’d ever had with a guy was when
Felix Lewis flung me in the air during cheerleading tryouts. “Find someone and
have fun,” but avoid the bad guys, she had said. She wanted me to keep my other
valuables safe.
man’s face pointed in my direction, and I heard my best friend’s voice in my
head. Zee, he’s checking you out. See if he’s hot. Ryka had encouraged
me to have a summer fling. The only fling I’d ever had with a guy was when
Felix Lewis flung me in the air during cheerleading tryouts. “Find someone and
have fun,” but avoid the bad guys, she had said. She wanted me to keep my other
valuables safe.
Pretending to look back at the clock, I glanced
at the fountain. The guy was gone. I searched the piazza but didn’t see him. Too
bad. He might have been cute. Would his trying to pick my back pocket count as
second base?
at the fountain. The guy was gone. I searched the piazza but didn’t see him. Too
bad. He might have been cute. Would his trying to pick my back pocket count as
second base?
I turned down a lane sandwiched between two
square buildings and wove through a group of men in soccer jerseys. An old man
in an undershirt and house slippers stood in the street with a dusty poodle,
and I returned his sullen glare with a smile and a nod.
square buildings and wove through a group of men in soccer jerseys. An old man
in an undershirt and house slippers stood in the street with a dusty poodle,
and I returned his sullen glare with a smile and a nod.
After walking several minutes, something seemed
wrong. Okay, I remember passing this restaurant with the row of people
eating on white linen tablecloths under white umbrellas. I remember this tight
street with the parked cars on my left. But I don’t remember the street opening
into a parking lot and this giant purple bush.
wrong. Okay, I remember passing this restaurant with the row of people
eating on white linen tablecloths under white umbrellas. I remember this tight
street with the parked cars on my left. But I don’t remember the street opening
into a parking lot and this giant purple bush.
A mass of fuchsia flowers cascaded down the side
of a building, like a purple monster arm, reaching for the ground with its
branchy fingers. I would have remembered this. I doubled back through
the dim streets but then couldn’t find my way to the piazza. Don’t panic.
of a building, like a purple monster arm, reaching for the ground with its
branchy fingers. I would have remembered this. I doubled back through
the dim streets but then couldn’t find my way to the piazza. Don’t panic.
I took a mental inventory of the contents of my
bag: a journal, my wallet, my passport, my digital camera, a bottle of water. Of
course, I didn’t take the note card with Sofia’s address and phone number on
it. It’s on my dresser. Of course, I didn’t take a map. I could see
Sofia’s round face, scrunched with disapproval, the creases on her frowning
forehead. I performed a frustrated pirouette.
bag: a journal, my wallet, my passport, my digital camera, a bottle of water. Of
course, I didn’t take the note card with Sofia’s address and phone number on
it. It’s on my dresser. Of course, I didn’t take a map. I could see
Sofia’s round face, scrunched with disapproval, the creases on her frowning
forehead. I performed a frustrated pirouette.
“Come on,” I said, exasperated with myself.
“Excuse me?” A voice said behind me.
I spun around, and there he was in the middle of
the road. The guy from the fountain. I recognized his jacket and his tall,
stiff stance.
the road. The guy from the fountain. I recognized his jacket and his tall,
stiff stance.
“Sorry. I was talking to myself,” I said.
He took a step toward me and his face shocked me.
He had high cheek bones and clean-shaven, pale skin. His deep-set blue eyes
were in shadow under thick, dark eyebrows, but they were luminous.
He had high cheek bones and clean-shaven, pale skin. His deep-set blue eyes
were in shadow under thick, dark eyebrows, but they were luminous.
I realized then that I was staring with my mouth
ajar.
ajar.
“You’re American?” he asked in his Italian
accent.
accent.
“No, I’m from Winnipeg. It’s in Canada,” I said,
pointing to my T-shirt. I glanced away, feeling weird that I had just directed
his attention to my chest.
pointing to my T-shirt. I glanced away, feeling weird that I had just directed
his attention to my chest.
He nodded. “You are on vacation?”
“I’m living here for two months studying
Italian.”
Italian.”
“Well then, welcome to Italia,” he said,
and his pale pink lips smiled. “Do you like it here?”
and his pale pink lips smiled. “Do you like it here?”
“I’ve only been here for about a week and I love
it.”
it.”
“What do you love most?” The word, “lah-ve,”
filled his mouth thickly.
filled his mouth thickly.
“I love the architecture, the food,” I said. “If
I could eat gelato every day for the rest of my life, I would.”
I could eat gelato every day for the rest of my life, I would.”
“Then you must be sweet.”
His smile widened and I felt embarrassed. To
quash my anxiety, I thrust my hand at him. “I’m Zee,” I said.
quash my anxiety, I thrust my hand at him. “I’m Zee,” I said.
He seemed startled, tucking in his dimpled chin
to gaze at my hand. “Zee?”
to gaze at my hand. “Zee?”
“My name is Axelia but everybody calls me Zee.”
“Paolo,” he said.
He slipped his smooth, cool hand into mine. I
gripped his palm and shook it vigorously.
gripped his palm and shook it vigorously.
“Eggs-ee-lee-ah?” he said, pronouncing every
syllable of my name. “I like it.”
syllable of my name. “I like it.”
“Thanks. I like it too. It’s spelled A-X-E-L-I-A;
but the X is soft. Though I hated it when I was young. In
kindergarten, someone spread a totally untrue rumor that ‘Zee likes pee,’ and
then, you know, at recess, it was always ‘Zee likes pee, Zee likes pee.’”
but the X is soft. Though I hated it when I was young. In
kindergarten, someone spread a totally untrue rumor that ‘Zee likes pee,’ and
then, you know, at recess, it was always ‘Zee likes pee, Zee likes pee.’”
I laughed and when he didn’t join me, I cleared
my throat to silence myself. “And I have no clue why I told you that story,
since we just met.”
my throat to silence myself. “And I have no clue why I told you that story,
since we just met.”
Oh, Zee. Always babbling when you’re nervous.
He cocked his head and studied my face. “Zee,
would you like to go with me for a gelato?” he asked.
would you like to go with me for a gelato?” he asked.
Whoa. Is this beautiful guy asking me out?
Ryka would be celebrating with corniness: “He doesn’t want to steal your
wallet. He wants to steal your heart.”
Ryka would be celebrating with corniness: “He doesn’t want to steal your
wallet. He wants to steal your heart.”
“Uh, thank you, Paolo,” I said, relishing the
opportunity to use his name. “But I actually need to get home.”
opportunity to use his name. “But I actually need to get home.”
“Where do you live?”
“Good question. I mean, I’m not sure. I’m a bit
lost,” I said with a shrug and something in between a grin and a grimace. “It’s
on a narrow street around here. There’s a café on the street. There’s a
pizzeria. I know—every narrow street has a café and a pizzeria. And I don’t
have a map or an address. I might just have to live on the streets, survive on
cannoli, and sing for coins.”
lost,” I said with a shrug and something in between a grin and a grimace. “It’s
on a narrow street around here. There’s a café on the street. There’s a
pizzeria. I know—every narrow street has a café and a pizzeria. And I don’t
have a map or an address. I might just have to live on the streets, survive on
cannoli, and sing for coins.”
“You sing?”
“Yes but I’m sure people will pay me to stop.”
“Don’t worry,” he said. “I will help you.”
“Oh, I remember!” I exclaimed. “There’s a white
church on my street.”
church on my street.”
“Via della Scala has a white church,” he said.
“And a café and a pizzeria.”
“And a café and a pizzeria.”
“Via della Scala, that’s it!” I said.
He put his hand over his heart and bowed
slightly. “May I have the honor of walking you there, Zee?”
slightly. “May I have the honor of walking you there, Zee?”
“That would be lovely.”
As we walked back to Sofia’s apartment, I
chattered to fill the silence. I told him about the laundry fiasco and about my
Japanese housemate, Miyuki. At one point, I realized that I was nervously
swinging the box of cannoli while I walked. Paolo kept his eyes on me while I
looked everywhere else. His suede coat sleeve would brush my bare arm, giving
me goose bumps.
chattered to fill the silence. I told him about the laundry fiasco and about my
Japanese housemate, Miyuki. At one point, I realized that I was nervously
swinging the box of cannoli while I walked. Paolo kept his eyes on me while I
looked everywhere else. His suede coat sleeve would brush my bare arm, giving
me goose bumps.
“How old are you?” I said.
“How old are you?”
“Seventeen.”
“Me too,” he replied.
“I start university in the fall. I’m going to
take general arts courses for now because I’m not sure what field I’d like to
get into. My father’s an aerospace engineer and my big sister is studying
mechanical engineering. But I almost failed physics and math in high school. So
for the safety of mankind, I don’t think I should get a job building anything.
I love taking pictures so maybe I could be a photographer. What do you do?”
take general arts courses for now because I’m not sure what field I’d like to
get into. My father’s an aerospace engineer and my big sister is studying
mechanical engineering. But I almost failed physics and math in high school. So
for the safety of mankind, I don’t think I should get a job building anything.
I love taking pictures so maybe I could be a photographer. What do you do?”
“I’m a student.”
“What are you studying?”
“I’m a student of life,” he said. He pursed his
lips when he smiled.
lips when he smiled.
Was that code for unemployed?
“I see,” I said, instead. “And what have you
learned so far?”
learned so far?”
“I’ve learned that treasures present themselves
when you least expect them,” he said. “And you? What has your life taught you?”
when you least expect them,” he said. “And you? What has your life taught you?”
“That I shouldn’t walk around without a map,” I
said. “And that dish soap doesn’t go in washers. Actually, I’m here because I
want more life experience. I feel like I’ve been pretty sheltered in Winnipeg.”
said. “And that dish soap doesn’t go in washers. Actually, I’m here because I
want more life experience. I feel like I’ve been pretty sheltered in Winnipeg.”
“I’ve never been there. Is it nice?”
“Yes, but it gets cold.”
“Cold doesn’t bother me.”
“This cold would. Our winters are brutal. It’s so
cold sometimes that my eyes water and then my wet eyelashes freeze together.”
cold sometimes that my eyes water and then my wet eyelashes freeze together.”
He chuckled. His teeth were small and perfect.
For a moment, I imagined walking with him through these streets, laughing and
holding hands. I imagined him teaching me Italian. I imagined him kissing me.
Then I could add “kissed a hot guy” to my experiences, right after “traveled
outside of Winnipeg.”
For a moment, I imagined walking with him through these streets, laughing and
holding hands. I imagined him teaching me Italian. I imagined him kissing me.
Then I could add “kissed a hot guy” to my experiences, right after “traveled
outside of Winnipeg.”
Suddenly I recognized the square planters in
front of Sofia’s apartment farther down the street.
front of Sofia’s apartment farther down the street.
“Thank God, we’ve found it!” I blurted. Then I
turned to Paolo. “I didn’t mean thank God because I don’t like your company.
You’re wonderful company in fact.”
turned to Paolo. “I didn’t mean thank God because I don’t like your company.
You’re wonderful company in fact.”
“I also enjoyed your company.”
“Thank you so much. I owe you my life for helping
me get back to Sofia’s.”
me get back to Sofia’s.”
One side of his lips curled up. “Then repay me,”
he said.
he said.
“Okay.” I channeled Ryka’s boldness. “I could buy
you a gelato?”
you a gelato?”
“Yes. Let’s meet tomorrow at nine fifteen.”
“Where?” I asked. I could feel my cheeks
flushing.
flushing.
“Right here,” he said, pointing to the pizzeria
to his left.
to his left.
“Done,” I said. “It was nice meeting you.”
“Goodnight, Zee.”
“Goodnight, Paolo.”
What Kills Me is certainly a book worth reading, have a look at
MY REVIEW
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GIVEAWAY TIME!
US & Canada ONLY
Wynne is kindly offering two lovely gifts: a signed bookmark with butterfly charm (see the picture above) + an E-copy of What Kills Me. All you have to do is leave a comment on this post answering this question: “What would you fight for?” and then add your name and @. I will draft one lucky winner with Random.org on October 1st.
*Remember that to qualify you have to answer the question and being a US/Canada resident.*
About Silvia
Silvia is a dreamer at heart, drifting through ink and imagination, reading and playing stories alike, forever drawn to East Asian wonders ♡ Anything that sparks her creativity fills her with joy and makes her want to explore, play, and create even more!
Peek into all the corners of her world ⟡˙⋆
I would fight for my family and for love! kelly @ delivery.RN at gmail dot com
Wynne has met lots of cool and sexy people.
I would fight for my kids!
I would fight for love and family.
Tawnya Peltonen
[email protected]