Winter
Wolf
Witch
and Wolf, Book
2
RJ
Blain
Publisher: Pen & Page
Publishing
Release Date: November 24, 2014
ASIN: B00N1BXDMW
Book Description:
The
Hunted Wizard
When Nicole dabbled in the occult,
she lost it all: Her voice, her family, and her name. Now on the run from the
Inquisition, she must prove to herself—and the world—that not all wizards are
too dangerous to let live.
The savage murder of a bookstore
employee throws Nicole into the middle of Inquisition business, like it or not.
Driven by her inability to save the young man’s life, she decides to hunt the
killer on her own. Using forbidden magic to investigate the past, she learns
that the murderer is in fact a disease that could kill the entire werewolf
race.
Forced to choose between saving
lives and preserving her own, Nicole embraces the magic that sent her into
exile. Without werewolves, the power of the Inquisition would dwindle, and she
could live without being hunted.
Nicole’s only hope for success lies
in the hands of the werewolves she hates and the Inquisition she fears, but
finding someone to trust is only the beginning of her problems. There are those
who want to ensure that the werewolves go extinct and that the Inquisition
falls.
But, if she fails to find a cure,
her family—including her twin sister—will perish…
Excerpt
Almost everyone in
the store had a phone. Dormant devices, from reading lights to mobile chargers,
littered the tables. One woman, browsing books nearby, had four battery-powered
devices in her purse. One was a phone, and like mine, it hungered. Its need was
strong; its battery waned to the point of failure.
If I wanted, I
could charge it for her.
No one would
notice if I did. Maybe the woman would wonder how her phone hadn’t died before
she got home. It only had a few minutes left. It’d take me all of ten seconds
to fix it for her. If I did, I wouldn’t be so aware of it. But to do so, I’d
have to touch her—or her phone. Some things I could manipulate without having a
direct conduit, but cell phone batteries were tricky, greedy things.
I cringed a
little, setting the thriller book down. I picked up the next nearest title. I
flipped it over, not reading the text on the back. Did I dare? Out of the
corner of my eye, I watched the woman browsing through the books. All it would
take was a few seconds. I could charge it without her noticing.
That was one thing
I was actually good at.
I put the novel I
held down and wandered to the same table, careful not to look at her. Book by
book, I investigated the titles, circling to where she stood.
“You’re Nicole
Thomas, aren’t you? The actress. You’re her.” My quarry appraised me with a
pleased expression.
People normally
recognized the mainliners, people with beautiful faces and voices to match,
people who didn’t avoid crowds.
In short, people
other than me.
I met her gaze,
abandoning my perusal of novels. “I am,” I replied, wincing a little at the
sandpaper-rough quality of my voice. At least I hadn’t been reduced to a
whisper—yet. My fatal flaw was my rough, grating voice. Chronic laryngitis did
that to a person. It ruined careers, as it had mine, though I hadn’t quite
given up on being an actress. I’d already lost the ability to sing.
I wasn’t going to
let a stupid disease take everything away from me.
The woman smiled,
not seeming to mind talking to someone who sounded more like a zombie than a
human. “You’re taller than I expected. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
She thrust out her
hand.
We shook.
I left her phone
alone.
“They keep putting
me next to giants,” I quipped. It was true. When I did manage to get on the
silver screen, I worked alongside actors easily a foot-and-a-half taller than
me. “It’s a pleasure to meet you too.” I matched her smile. She didn’t tell me
her name, and I didn’t ask for it.
It took all of my
will not to fiddle with her phone. All it would take was a murmured word and a
thought, and it’d be done. It would have been easy to charge the battery when
our hands had been clasped together, but I hadn’t dared.
If, sometime
later, she noticed her phone had magically been charged—literally—she might
remember me. She knew my name.
And in true
cowardice, I couldn’t bring myself to help her. If she connected the strange
behavior of her phone with me, she might tell someone. If she did, I’d be as
good as dead—or worse. I had dabbled in the occult, and the occult had dabbled
back, and there were those who didn’t like when that happened.
The last thing I
needed was them finding me.
Author Bio
RJ Blain suffers from a Moleskine
journal obsession, a pen fixation, and a terrible tendency to pun without
warning.
When she isn't playing pretend, she
likes to think she's a cartographer and a sumi-e painter. In reality, she herds
cats and a husband. She is currently on a quest for a new warrior fish.
In her spare time, she daydreams about being a
spy. Should that fail, her contingency plan involves tying her best of enemies
to spinning wheels and quoting James Bond villains until she is satisfied.
Facebook Goodreads Blog Twitter
RJ’s
Favorite Books & Series in no particular order:
Anne McCaffrey's Pern
Mercedes Lackey's Valdemar &
Gryphon Series
Jim Butcher's Codex Alera & The
Dresden Files
Brandon Sanderson's Elantris
Patricia Briggs' Alpha and Omega,
Dragon Bones, & The Mercy Thompson series
Madeline L'Engle's A Wrinkle in
Time
Character Interview
Please welcome Nicole Thomas and Richard Murphy from RJ Blain's Winter Wolf to Diane’s Book Blog.
What is your name? Do you have a nickname?
Nicole: The name I currently
go by is Nicole Thomas. Don’t ask. It’s a really, really long story. I’m not
all that big on nicknames, so everyone calls me Nicole—except for my father and
sister. I guess I can always trust my family to put a kink in things…
Richard: Most people call me
Mr. Murphy, if they know what’s best for them. You can call me Richard. The
only people I allow to give me any form of nickname are my brother and Nicole. Alex
likes calling me ‘His Alphaness’ and ignores when I growl at him about it.
Nicole calls me
whatever she feels like at any given time. I don’t usually mind. I do regret
having introduced her to Amber, though. One armed and very dangerous woman in
my life is difficult enough, but now there are two of them.
I guess I should be
relieved that they haven’t shot me yet—and are typically satisfied after
calling me an idiot a few times.
How old are you?
Richard: Somewhere between
thirty and one hundred and thirty. I’m sure it’s written down on a birth
certificate somewhere. If you ask my mother and father, I’m sure they’d tell
you, right along with a lot of stories I wish they’d forget. Good luck finding
them, though… last time I heard from them, they announced that my brother and I
had driven them mad and went on a long overdue vacation.
I’m pretty sure they’re
somewhere in the Bahamas smugly laughing while I enjoy the Canadian winters…
Where were you born? Where have you lived since then? Where do
you currently call home?
Nicole: I was born in Seattle,
Washington. I currently call Los Angeles my home. L.A. is okay, although I
don’t know if I’ll want to stay here forever—hopefully I can move somewhere a
little quieter and a lot cooler...
Richard: I was born in
Yellowknife, Canada. My main home is there, although I’ve spent the last year
of living in hotels between Los Angeles and Las Vegas. I move around when
needed, but my permanent address is still somewhere near Yellowknife. I’m
looking forward to going home and staying there for a while.
What is in your refrigerator right now? On your bedroom floor?
On your nightstand? In your garbage can?
Nicole: I’m trying not to think
too hard about what is in my refrigerator right now. With all of the things
going on, I fear there’s something alive in there, waiting for me to come home
and exorcise it. I might have to burn the contents just to make sure.
As for my floors, normally they’re pretty clean. I don’t
own a whole lot. However, in its current state… I’m pretty sure everything I do own is currently tossed around. Never
tell someone to fetch something from your place and give them full rein to do
whatever they want. They just might.
Richard: I wish I knew. I
haven’t been home in so long that I’m certain my pack has done something
nefarious to my house. Fortunately, most Fenerec dislike clutter, so I’ll
likely have an intact home when I return.
Hopefully my pack will
see this and make certain everything
is as I left it when I flew out of Yellowknife last year…
And yes, Frank, I do
mean everything.
Who are the people you are closest to?
Richard: I’m closest to my
younger brother, Alex. He’s not much younger than me. He also has the patience
of a Saint. While he’s dominant enough to remain my Second in the pack, he’s
the type of person no one wants to
fight. He’s a huge help—even if it means I will sometimes fight his battles for
him so he doesn’t have to humiliate his opponents.
When Alex does decide
to fight, he doesn’t play fair. I, at least, will pretend they have a
chance—for all of a minute or two. Alex doesn’t.
Who is your funniest
friend?
What is your most treasured possession?
Nicole: I’m not really one for
treasured possessions, although I’m quite fond of my mother’s brooch. I may
have stolen it when I left home…
Richard: I have a very special
ring I carry around with me in my wallet. Please don’t tell anyone. Not even my
brother knows they’re in there.
What or who is the greatest love of your life?
Nicole: Before I was diagnosed
with chronic laryngitis, I loved to sing. It’s a sore subject. On the romance
front, love isn’t something I’ve really dedicated myself to… so I guess one day
I’ll find out. I’ve had a lot of other more important things on my mind lately.
What do you most value in your friends?
Nicole: This may sound odd,
but I value my friends because they
are my friends. It isn’t any one characteristic that makes them my friend. This
may be why my friends are few and far between. I’d probably have an easier time
getting close to people if I did
value specific traits over others.
If I didn’t value
everything about them, they wouldn’t be my friend in the first place.
Which living person do you most despise?
Richard: There are few people I
despise. There have been a few, but they’ve already been dealt with…
permanently.
Grave Humor by R.J. Blain
