Crescendo Sneak Peek #2

I think I've finally hit my stride on Crescendo. The words have really been flowing the last couple days, so I thought it might be fun to share some with you this morning. Fair warning: I am a bad, bad character-mommy. You've probably all noticed this already, but I tend to break my toys, and now is no different. My family tells me this is why we can't have nice things ;-) But I promise I'll kiss it and make it all better by the end, for whatever that's worth.

So, excerpt beneath the cut. Before I launch into the sneak peek, one quick note you folks may find useful. It turns out that, on rare occasion, Groupon.com actually offers something useful. Who'd have thunk it? I don't mean to sound like an infomercial, but today's discount in my area was pretty epic for book-lovers: $10 for $20 worth of credit at Barnes and Noble--either in-store or online. So if you own a Nook, or like to hold a paper book in your hands, it kind of doesn't get any better than this: http://gr.pn/ezlID1.

But back to topic, here's today's Crescendo sneak peek, beneath the jump. And if you want to see more exclusive sneak peeks, be sure to sign up for my monthly newsletter (the first one will be going out on March 1ish), where I will exclusively preview whole scenes.

Ayden woke to shattering screams. Dozens of voices, hundreds, thousands; males and females and Ferals alike, all wailing straight into his ears.

Only when his throat seized did he realize his own voice was a part of that tormented chorus.

Someone touched him . . . somewhere. His chest, perhaps. A hand through his hair. He opened tearing eyes and blinked a high ceiling into partial clarity. He could not focus any of his senses through the overload of the one most critical.

What had happened to him? Where was he?

Tiles beneath his bare back. The bath . . . he was in the bath. Naked, shivering despite the steam heat. Agony he couldn’t even begin to comprehend festered in his skull like a rotten human tooth. 

The binding.

He thought he might have screamed again, but only because he felt blades hacking at the inner flesh of his throat. He could not hear himself.

Or anything else for that matter.

Oh gods help him, he was deaf!

No. Worse than deaf. For all the beauty of the world’s music had been shattered, stripped away, leaving only this broken wailing wrong in its place.

He tried to stand. Couldn’t. Could barely even find the coordination or strength to bring his arms to his head, dig the heels of his hands into his eyes, his temples, the top of his skull. Nothing eased the torment. He felt more than heard himself sob, floundered onto his side and tucked his head to his knees. It didn’t help; the shriek was a part of him now, locked round his ankles and wrists and neck. He couldn’t even remember that happening, but clearly it had, for he saw the starfall circlets with his own eyes.

Oh gods please help him, however would he bear this?