ABOUT
PRAEFATIO
Title:
Praefatio (Praefatio #1)
Publication
date: May 21, 2013
Publisher:
Month9Books, LLC.
Author:
Georgia McBride
Seventeen-year-old
Grace Ann Miller is no ordinary runaway...
After
having been missing for weeks, Grace is found on the estate of international
rock star Gavin Vault, half-dressed and yelling for help. Over the course of
twenty-four hours Grace holds an entire police force captive with incredulous
tales of angels, demons, and war; intent on saving Gavin from lockup and her
family from worry over her safety.
Authorities
believe that Grace is ill, suffering from Stockholm Syndrome, the victim of
assault and a severely fractured mind. Undeterred, Grace reveals the secret
existence of dark angels on earth, an ancient prophecy and a wretched curse
steeped in Biblical myth. Grace’s claims set into motion an ages-old war,
resulting in blood, death and the loss of everything that matters. But are
these the delusions of an immensely sick girl, or could Grace’s story actually
be true?
Praefatio
is Grace’s account of weeks on the run, falling in love and losing everything
but her faith. When it’s sister against brother, light versus darkness, corrupt
police officers, eager doctors and accusing journalists, against one girl with
nothing but her word as proof: who do you believe?
EXCEPRT #1
“Once the
most beautiful, talented and favored of all the Angels, I wanted for nothing.
Privilege was mine. I knew only a life of luxury, leisure, and song. His plans
were of no consequence to me. That is, until the sixth day.”
“We retired
to bed as humans do when the moon reigns supremely over their sky. I learned to sleep because it made my wife
uneasy when she woke to find me sharpening knives. She knew not what I was, the
truth of my origins. Instead, I embraced my humanity and prayed she would never
have to know.”
EXCERPT #2
Officer Sarah Bladen sighed heavily.
“When you’re ready to talk, let me know. In the meantime, I’ll go see if
your mom’s here.” She threw the newspaper she’d been holding on the table in
front of me and left the room. I grabbed it before it hit the tabletop
microphone. I flipped the paper around to find Gavin’s photo under the
headline: ROCK STAR ARRESTED IN DISAPPEARANCE
OF MISSING PEAK GIRL
Gavin Vault, lead
singer of Venus Unearthed, was arrested on Christmas Day for the kidnapping and
attempted assault of Grace Miller, daughter of Broadway actress Vivienne
Miller. Miss Miller, seventeen, was reported as a runaway two months ago by her
legal guardians, Victoria and Kenneth Larson, with whom she’d been living since
her father, Gabriel Miller, died in a motor vehicular accident. Mr. Vault is
considered a person of interest in the disappearance of Miss Miller’s brother,
Remiel, fifteen, and the Larson’s daughter, Jennifer, also fifteen. The two
teens were reported missing three weeks ago. At the time of Mr. Vault’s arrest,
Miss Miller was found on the Vault estate in questionable physical condition.
She is believed to be suffering from a condition similar to Stockholm Syndrome.
Something in the article triggered a flood of coherent thoughts and
memories. When I tell them, when I finally answer their questions, it’s
not gonna be good. They thought I was protecting Gavin; that I was his victim
somehow. What were they going to say when I told them what really happened?
What was Mom going to think?
My stomach churned as I took the last sip of the liquid they proudly
called “coffee.” The door to the interrogation room swung open. I stood to
throw the coffee cup away, and saw Gavin leaning against the wall in the
hallway across from me. My stomach churned again, and a great sadness followed.
Every bit the rock star and not a hair out of place, he looked as if he
didn’t have a care in the world. Gavin laughed with the same officers who’d
arrested him, and I noticed he was in the clothes he’d been wearing when they
took him away in handcuffs. I wish I’d told him how good he looked earlier. I
wish I’d done so many things differently.
Can you hear me? I tried speaking
to him telepathically. He didn’t answer or even acknowledge that I’d spoken,
so, I opened my mouth to call to him.
Our eyes met, and my mouth clamped shut. I was suddenly at a loss for
words. One of the officers began leading him down the hall. I wanted to run to
him, but my legs were jerked back into place by what felt like shackles, though
there weren’t any on me. I tried again, but could only move about a foot from
where I stood before being yanked back into place.
“Gavin!” I yelled. My voice echoed off the walls of the interrogation
room and out into the hall, making me sound way more desperate than I’d
intended.
Gavin lowered his head as if the sight was too much for him. Hot tears
streamed down my face, stinging my skin. “Please, Gavin, wait!” He kept
walking. as if Gavin didn’t know me at
all.
Officer Bladen reentered the room and closed the door.
Still, I heard them laughing and talking outside; it surprised me that I
could hear them through the walls. Or was I just hearing voices again?
“You really make a lasting impression, huh, Vault?” One of the cops
joked, followed by laughter from the others. By his tone, they seemed like they
could have been old high school buddies.
Rage and humiliation got the best of me. I lunged forward, only to be
pulled backward by the invisible shackles around my feet.
My landing wasn’t as graceful as I would have liked. Refusing help from
a rather amused Officer Bladen, I stood, dusted off my knees and took a seat.
***
We sat in silence, occasionally staring at one another, listening for
anything at all. The only interruptions were Officer Bladen’s rubbing of her
arm at seemingly timed intervals and the dings of her cell phone. The fly was
gone. He caught the flight out when Bladen opened the door. Smart fly. I found
myself missing his flitting and buzzing.
A knock on the doorframe brought us both out of our bored trances. I
think I was actually counting Officer Bladen’s arm hairs at the time.
“Ms. Miller,” intoned a cop who poked his head in from the hallway.
Leaning in slightly and holding onto the doorframe as if the room were
contaminated, he continued, “Your mother’s arrived and is right outside. I
suspect you’ll want to start with your videotaped statement now.” He crooked a
long index finger and motioned for Officer Bladen to follow him out into the
hall. And then she was gone, leaving the lingering smell of her perfume.
A voice came from somewhere on the other side of the two-way mirror.
“Hi, Honey. Go ahead with your statement. Everything’s going to be just
fine.”
A red light on the video camera above the mirror came on. I hadn’t
noticed it until now.
“Mom?” I stood, ready to leave with her.
“Sit down, Grace,” Mom’s voice ordered. “Just give your statement and this
will all be over with.”
“Mom…you’re not coming in?” My voice was small, almost mousey. The sound
of the metal chair scraping along the concrete floor echoed in my ears as I
sank back down.
“No, honey, just please give them your statement so we can be done with
this whole mess,” Mom had not come to get me at all.
“Miss Miller, please. Look into the camera, state your name for the
record, and start with your earliest recollections leading up to when we found
you tonight, how you met Mr. Vault, came to be on his property, anything he may
have said about your brother, Remiel, or Jennifer Larson from as far back as
you can remember. Just take your time, Grace. If you need a break, let me
know,” Sergeant Mullane’s voice boomed through the overhead speakers.
I squirmed, took a deep breath, cleared my throat and spoke into the
microphone, “Archangel Grace Ann Miller.” My voice was barely above a whisper.
I could still take it back.
“I’m sorry, Grace. Can you repeat? Not sure we caught that,” Sergeant
Mullane requested.
I know what I am. I know what I saw.
“Archangel Grace Ann Miller,” I repeated, only slightly louder.
“Did she say what I think she said?” It was Officer Bladen’s
unmistakably snarky voice.
“Grace, I’m sorry. Can you please repeat your name and speak directly
into the microphone in front of you?” Sergeant Mullane instructed.
“Archangel Grace Ann Miller,” I stated as loud as I could without
yelling.
I didn’t hear anything after that.
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ABOUT
GEORGIA MCBRIDE:
Georgia
loves a good story. Whether it’s writing her own, or publishing someone else’s,
story is at the heart of everything Georgia does. Founder of Month9Books, YALITCHAT.ORG and the weekly #yalitchat on
Twitter, Georgia spends most of her days writing, editing, or talking about
books. That is, of course, when she is not blasting really loud music or
reading. She lives in North Carolina with four dogs, a frog, a parrot, 2 kids,
parents and a husband. PRAEFATIO is her first novel.
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