EXCERPT FROM THE SENTIENT…UNITY VOL.4

the sentient

It’s blackout and the streets are empty but I am running about like it’s the old days, a gun in each hand. Silencers on. I’m without any armor but we don’t use any. We’re invincible; that’s what we have been taught. I feel unnaturally strong and alert, aware. Yet deadened, somewhat. My lack of concern stems from some source I can’t quite put my finger on. It’s filling my veins with an erratic pulse of blood, potent with the need to move and perform. Meanwhile my thoughts are foggy but I am seeing things with clarity, if that’s possible. It’s as though I have been trained to not think, but still see. And see, I do.

I watch while a pair of nonentities scurry into a sewer. They’re no concern. They look like they could barely rub a penny together, if pennies were still in existence. Rats fill gutters at this time; it’s like they have evolved to know when humans are inside, and they can come out. They know the dark means safety. In what world do we live in, when the dark is more attractive than the light?

I am running still, the exertion nothing to me. My body was highly strung before they got hold of me, before they placed me in their program and made me their weapon.

I know my destination and what I’ll do when I get there but my thoughts have been dulled, like I said, and I can’t quite reconcile the meaning of this mission. Its priority doesn’t make sense to me, not in the back of my mind. I am just following orders.

Having made it to the building in question (my destination) I stow my guns away. I didn’t encounter any adversaries on the way which is strange. Usually there are a few dissidents out at this time of night, in wait, ready to take someone like me down. They know emissaries, oh, they recognize us. We’re the only ones without fear, without armor. We carry weapons and identities nobody else can get.

At street level, I take out my Clever-Grips and strap them on. I climb to the eighth floor and slide inside an open window. There in the apartment, I find a terrible scene waiting for me; a man beaten almost to death, laid sprawled on the carpeted floor; furniture tossed around and glass broken. I’m not sure what to do but thoughts that were suppressed come to the fore.

I see three others like me and they are stood over the target, who’s in a mess. The man’s wild eyes are darting though he can’t move his body. My eye registers several broken bones, wounds that won’t heal and the shock on his face when he sees it’s me. His eyes briefly dart to a photograph on a desk near the window and I see a woman’s face. I realize she may be in the room, or she may be on her way, or he may be trying to tell me she’s why he’s let them do this. She got away while he fought. I don’t know for sure but I see in his eyes, he only cares she’s safe. He is at peace to some extent. He is begging me to save him from more pain, and without thought, I hold out my weapon and shoot.

He’s not hurting, anymore. I know that.

The others register the kill and one of them mumbles into his radio, ‘Target down.’

Just like that.

My colleagues don’t rebuke me for ending a life before we got chance to interrogate him first. Neither do they bring it up that we could have shown him his own entrails – some of Officium’s dogs have done that before, for fun.

Killing is our business. So they don’t seem too unhappy. He’s dead, so what? I see that thought in their murky expressions.

We all pile out of the apartment together, heading for the stairs down.

I stand between these other men who bear no remorse, no emotion.

None of us speak. We’re all piles of meat employed to kill and perform.

Yet I know.

One thing, I know.

I am still sentient, to some extent.

In fact, I may the only sentient one amongst them.

THE OPERATOR

THE SENTIENT’S RELEASE TBC….

PLEASE NOTE THE SENTIENT IS VOLUME FOUR, VOLUME THREE THE OPERATOR IS OUT… TOMORROW!!!

VISIT UNITYNOVELS.COM OR AMAZON TO PURCHASE

Prologue – THE INFORMANT!!!!

the informantOUT THIS WEEK!!

This is the sequel to THE RADICAL and promises to be explosive, action-packed, full of romance, intrigue and surprises galore!

To buy THE RADICAL… GO HERE!!!

READ ON FOR THE INFORMANT PROLOGUE…

January 2064

Mine was a life unlike all the others’. How bold a statement, you may say. Yet quite true. The rest thrived off reputation and hearsay whereas me, Camille Honoré, needed no reputation to prove how much of a threat to Officium I was. Nothing they had thrown at me had killed me. They had tried numerous times. I had kept my head down yet they knew of my conquests. My name was still synonymous with threat.

I sat in a bedroom in Paris, with these thoughts all swirling around my head. I looked out over the expansive rear gardens of Seraph’s new purchase: a house. The place needed a great deal of work and the gardens were more junkyard than recreational space, but I could see she believed in a possible transformation. I’d complain about the seals, the safety locks, the roof and she would smile and return, ‘It has potential.’

I loved her enthusiasm. Even after all that had transpired, she saw something good in everything. I knew it was because she had been to rock bottom and come back again that she didn’t take anything for granted. I had learnt that same lesson myself.

The strain of the past few months had driven me to the odd cigarette and I puffed on one out of the window so she wouldn’t see my vulnerability. Me, yes, me Camille Honoré, who was meant to be beyond all these earthly pleasures. Yet the past nine months had nearly killed me. Why? I could admit the reasons but only to myself. It knew it would take more than retrospect and reflection before I would be able to digest it with anyone else.

Seraph and her “condition” put a spanner in the works, let’s say. A touch of nausea on a certain Dakota apartment balcony was the whole damn reason why nine months had nearly killed me…

I was digressing. Getting sloppy. Allowing emotions to get the better of me. How crass. I forgot Camille Honoré does not admit she has the potential to die, when in fact she has more than the potential. I was just as fallible as the rest, if not more, though I was better at hiding it.

We thought Ryken had successfully paved the way for a resurgence. When in actual fact, no.

“Fuck him,” I whined to myself.

I blamed Eve for teaching me swear words. I blamed her for a lot of things actually. She had passed on and left me with a shit load of problems to mop up, sweep away, tuck under the carpet… (insert other archaisms here).

I was dealing with a mountain of logistical nightmares in fact and no amount of swearing would make me feel any better. Nothing was going to sway me from my feeling that the proverbial was going to hit the fan before long.

He damn well forgot to wear a prophylactic. Nothing but mayhem would ensue because of that one, silly, neglectful action.

I finished the cigarette and took out a mint, spraying myself with scented water too. Perfume would have her licking my face with the heightened sense of smell she had.

A ding from my xGen arrested me and I inwardly recoiled. What now? I told them all to leave me alone. I am not in the mood.

I had retired myself, I suppose, to a certain extent. I had left my no.1 in charge at the shop and had come to Paris with Seraph in a bid to start fresh, breathe away the cobwebs and reconnect with who I used to be. That thought made me chuckle inwardly: who I used to be

I recalled a little French girl, treated like a princess by her parents, strolling the streets with her mamma, seeking shoes from stalls that would inscribe your name inside and make it all the more magical to have something that was entirely your own. How fantastical. How whimsical. How nothing of that little girl remained in the powerful machine that had replaced her.

I picked up my xGen and saw a message. I saw the sender and heat flooded my body. Heat rose in my cheeks. She still had that affect on me. It read, ‘Got time for a chat? Only a quick one.’

Sure,’ I replied, unable to help myself.

She called within a minute and I froze when I saw her. She was all blackness and I loved it. The darkness within her contrasted with the lightness in me. Though what she knew, and only she, was that my depths ran darker and deeper than most others’ – and in that respect we were a perfect fit.

‘How are you?’ she asked with concern.

‘Shit,’ I replied. I never swore. She knew that meant it was bad.

‘He is on his way?’ she asked tentatively.

‘Yes, he is,’ I mumbled.

‘Do you want me to come over?’

‘No,’ I told her, my lips pursed.

‘I don’t like the way you look,’ she argued.

‘How should I look? Pleased?’

I was more miffed than I had ever been.

There was a very valid reason for Ryken’s disappearance off the face of the planet and now I feared all this sacrifice, all this struggle, would be for nothing.

‘You can tell me what is going on in that head of yours. If it will help to unburden you, you may as well.’

I sniffed. I shook my head and rambled quickly in French, quicker than even she could understand. I went into my roughest dialect, my street tongue, and she gawped as I reeled off a lot of jargon.

‘Don’t be such a child and just tell me,’ she chastised.

‘Huh,’ I harrumphed, sitting down on my bed with her on my lap. I had to think of Seraph and her talk of piles earlier… anything to take my mind off the beauty of the woman opposite me.

I cogitated and twisted my mouth before admitting, ‘You haven’t been here when she cries in the night. You haven’t seen her…’ I paused, my mouth twisting uncomfortably while I tried to combat my emotions, ‘…talking like she is happy when she isn’t, not really. She is only pretending… when really she is so sad, she can barely get out of bed in the morning.’

‘Camille, you always knew it would be this way.’

‘Oh, yes, yes,’ I laughed in a trite manner, ‘oh that’s right. Camille follows orders, that is what she does.’

‘This is not you speaking, who is this creature?’ she demanded, her eyes narrowing.

‘I am so tired of this,’ I moaned.

‘You cannot let emotion get the better of you. Not when we have a traitor amongst us.’

‘Ha, a traitor! That is a laugh, is it not? We are all traitors to ourselves. We are human and still we convince ourselves we have no feelings… just to get the job done.’

‘If you don’t bloody tell me what is wrong, right this instant, I am going to come over there to knock some damn sense into you!’

‘That traitor as you term them… that thing who proclaims to be a person, well… my spies tell me things I don’t like to hear. Things that mean this whole sham could have been for nothing! Nothing!’

‘I am coming,’ she warned.

‘No. I don’t need you adding to my problems as well. I already have too many people on the watch list, thank you very much.’

‘A few more days, Camille,’ she comforted me, ‘and Seraph will not be so vulnerable. Just a few more days.’

A few more days, a few more months, a few more years… they had piled up and robbed my life, those “calculations of time” that meant shit. This fight felt like it would never be over.

I wanted to tell my counterpart that she had no idea of the real legacy the Operator had left behind. Secrets nobody but me knew. Some so terrible… some days I had to break skin on the punch bag to rid myself of the guilt I sometimes felt. Me, Camille Honoré, breaking skin. Oh Jesus. Who was I kidding? I was just a woman too. No plan, no motive. Just a woman.

‘I will come if you want me to,’ she added. Oh I bet you would

Non, I don’t want you here,’ I insisted in a harsh voice.

‘Well, chin up. You never know, you might get to kick some more ass before long.’

I looked into her eyes and couldn’t help but crack a wry grin. That had me perked up. She was never easily offended, never gave up on me. She knew just how to appeal to my sense of humor.

‘She’s back, there she is, Camille is in the room again,’ she beamed.

I heard the door to Seraph’s room open after her nap and nodded towards Mara, whispering, ‘Got to go.’

She mouthed, ‘Okay.’

We ended the call and I heard Seraph yell from the corridor, ‘My back’s fuckin’ killin’!’

I chuckled inwardly. Seraph didn’t know how alike she and Eve had been. I had to hope she would never know the extent of the truth in that.

The Radical revealed her place in this tale, now I will unveil mine. Maybe I was the Principal first and foremost, in the eyes of the world. But there is/was so much more to me, too.

I was the Operator’s right-hand woman and you have yet to discover the extent of our former leader’s skills… prepare to be driven deeper into the murky abyss.

Happy Valentine’s Day!

What did you all get? I got some of my fave bathing products and some science fiction graphic art books to inspire my work! Yes, I am a mega secret geek!

Just to let you all know, there is still lots of time to get your copy of Angel Avenue for free! Either on Smashwords or B&N.

Plus, today I added some new material for your reading pleasure. Just click here!

♥♥♥♥

News and Developments…goodies too!!!!

Oooh, it’s cold. It’s dark outside. It’s not all that nice! My husband works in journalism and is flat-out in the month of November to get you all your Christmas magazines. He hardly sees the light of day. Bless him! I always write something every year for my husband to look forward to reading at the end of this period of slog. Last year it was an unusual one… a 160,000-word action adventure novel, Beneath the Exile, which spanned four decades and several continents.

This year, I will give him something with fewer words but nevertheless, it is still pretty special. I will provide more on that, all in due course. It sure should get published. It’s something with a festive theme… I have a book cover ready and I am editing as we speak. By ze way, it is not erotique… More to come…

I’ve also been busy typesetting other people’s books for publication, editing them, producing covers. So you could say it’s one hectic month and I am so looking forward to Christmas this year! A lovely period of time off with my husband and daughter.

Treat yourself to a double helping of Chambermaid action today for a bargain price of less than £2.70 for the two (A Fine Profession and A Fine Pursuit). Still been getting some great feedback for these erotic stories. You can also still purchase the chambermaid’s short stories for 99pence. Just search Amazon for Bedtime Confessions. (click on the covers on my home page to view these books on amazon).

In other news I have an extra scene I wrote for A Fine Pursuit that I am hoping to release sometime soon! It’s from Charlotte’s POV, though the novel is from Noah’s voice…! A little bonus from our naughty chambermaid. What a year it has been so far.

Catch ya later, Sx

Article and Blog Stop with @afterdarkonline

Please take a few minutes out to read an article I wrote for After Dark Online. afterdark-online.com/pages/attitudes-to-erotica-sex-and-porn-sarah-michelle-lynch

I hope the article proves enlightening and if not, interesting for those of you out there who write erotica like I do. A few writers have already said they have encountered the same reactions I have and are comforted to know they are not alone!

The website is promoting my book here and you can find out everything you need to know about my first erotic novel A Fine Profession. afterdark-online.com/pages/book-tour-a-fine-profession-sarah-michelle-lynch

A week today, the magazine will be interviewing me and in due course, reviewing A Fine Profession. Keep your eyes peeled. Still only 99pence to download!

 

A Fine Profession WEBSITE USE

99 pence bookshelf…

Go to my AMAZON AUTHOR PAGE now to download any of my books for 99pence in the run-up to this Friday’s release of A Fine Pursuit, the sequel and conclusion to A Fine Profession

A Fine Profession WEBSITE USE

Meet the milliner, the dressmaker, the carpenter and the militant…

The milliner had been given only two hours to deal with her target. She had arranged it so that he would come to her. It was imperative she got in, and got out. She couldn’t risk her identity. As far as the authorities knew, she wasn’t even in the country, so being caught would spell certain catastrophe for not only her – but the cause too.

She was dressed casually, and with her hair pulled back into a tight bun, she looked just like any other library frequenter – except for the black ballet pumps laced firmly around her ankles – easier to perform in. No-one would presume that she was one of the deadliest creatures on the planet.

She sat at the end of a long, wide, wooden desk, reading Balzac quietly, with a polystyrene cup containing her espresso to hand. Even though she could barely see her surroundings, she resisted the temptation to switch on one of the desk lights, knowing the dim lighting would allow her more of the element of surprise. This part of the New York Public Library, the rare books section – with its crowded shelves but few visitors – was deserted save for her.

Like clockwork, he appeared. Smart navy-striped suit, possibly Saville Row. Grey hair, broad shoulders, bulky physique. There were three desks between hers and the one he had chosen to sit at.

 

As far as he was concerned, he was finally getting to meet a representative of the group he had risked so much for. He had sold out some good people to finally get his fingers in a few pies. This was everything he had ever wanted. Money, power, success. He could smell it, taste it almost, and he wore his best suit for the occasion. That morning, when he got the message to meet, he had not thought for a second that he would be placing himself in danger. He was not even concerned that the message came from an unknown source. He was simply overtaken by excitement at finally getting what he deserved. Status.

He had joined the resistance to get knowledge of their inner workings, hoping it would gain him respect from Officium if he could find out enough about their enemy. He was fed up of being an underachiever, a mediocre excuse for a man, and a disappointment to his wife and son. He’d never been fit and strong enough to become an agent, since a childhood illness left him without his left foot. He needed more than to be a simple tailor, in a dwindling and dying market. When a client of his, Hamish Maddon, told him about a resistance group he knew of, he had leapt on the opportunity to get in on it. He made promises about using his clientele to gather information. But he had secretly had a very sinister, ulterior motive. He had unwittingly given up Maddon, who had died along with his wife, after he had revealed the location of RAO’s meetings in New York. However, he had not carried out the act, so as far as he was concerned, he was without sin or recrimination. He simply knew he needed more from life, that’s all, and now he was there – deliriously expectant.

A mildly attractive woman suddenly appeared before him, standing with a book in hand. She smiled sweetly and asked, ‘Excuse me, but do you have the time? I can’t seem to find a single clock in this place.’

‘Of course,’ looking down at his watch, he said, ‘It’s a quarter to two.’

‘Thanks so much, that’s very kind of you.’ She continued smiling at him and stayed standing there. He felt it would be too rude to ask her if there was anything else, but his contact could arrive at any moment, and he became anxious.

She noted, ‘I hear the police are making headway into finally getting hold of the person responsible for the Maddon killings. You know, the heart surgeons? Apparently their loss will now mean at least four dozen people will have to wait six months longer for bypasses.’

He looked up at her face, shock spreading across his. He wondered, but it couldn’t possibly be… He had been so careful… hadn’t he? He nervously stood up. He looked into her eyes, but he struggled to gauge what was behind them. She stood there with hardly any expression whatsoever. That scared him more than anything.

‘Who are you?’ he asked.                                                                                    

‘I’m a friend of the dressmaker. You might have heard of her?’

He wanted to bolt out of the place. He was desperate to just start running.

‘Yes, it was a grave shame about the Maddons. Their daughter is without both her parents now. Imagine that, a young woman without her mum and dad. Being without one would certainly be bad enough, but without both…’

She didn’t seem intimidating, standing there casually holding her book between both hands in front of her. However, her words almost shocked the life out of him. He started to move away from behind the desk to make his escape. However, her book suddenly fell and he was drawn by its flight toward the floor.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw an almost inhuman shadow move with incredible velocity. She leapt up onto the desk he had moved away from, suddenly threw her body in the air and expertly sent a foot crashing into his chest to ensure he had taken his last breath. Then there was nothing. His mass fell to the floor, and she walked toward the exit to the stairwell.

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CREATESPACECOVER

Side Notes of a Sort

I posted the prologue for A Fine Pursuit but then felt like I wanted to put up a little something else to accompany it. I give nothing away while still intriguing the reader with some insight into what one might expect from this novel.

This time, I have taken the psychological aspect so much further than I did in A Fine Profession. Far enough in fact that you will be watching Noah’s therapy sessions as if from an impartial POV, though you will also have his first-person narrative, which varies from sad and aggressive to the upper echelons of romantic prose. (Of course all this I am saying with some confidence and hoping and praying I have got it right. I feel I have. I hope I have!)

A Fine Pursuit has very short chapters. You need to experience the ride as Noah does. I hardly give him a moment to breathe and it will be the breathless moments I hope, that have you on the edge of your seats. I had to offset the dark, challenging chapters with great romance.

So, a word of warning, if you are planning on buying this book on November 1st, please clear that weekend and set yourself up for a rollercoaster, uninterrupted ride. I’d also recommend re-reading A Fine Profession beforehand, but you know, life gets in the way! I have thoroughly researched these two people’s disorders but I think in this second book, I have allowed more of their individual personalities to shine rather than put too many labels on them. Achieving a balance between romance and exploring such difficult topics has sure been a great challenge!

TEASER…TEASER…TEASER

This is the PROLOGUE from my new novel A Fine Pursuit, releasing November 1st…

 

Noah stands on the periphery observing the chaos. He vaguely sees two people warring and yet his own mental conflict rages louder. Something is mixing with the blood and adrenalin pumping around his body – but he refuses to be provoked. He feels dizzy and out of control; sick with a sense of terrible foreboding. He is paralysed by an innate and dreadful fear.

The memory dissipates and he is somewhere else, far, far away from that scene. He has her in his arms. He takes a deep, satisfying breath of her hair and holds her close. The peace she affords him obliterates all those reminders of the ordeal. The woman he loves feels so soft and gentle against his much larger, harder body. She nuzzles her nose in his chest and waves of joy flow through his heart and stomach so that nothing hurts, no bad ever happened. The daily struggle to avoid his torment has been completely eradicated.

He blinks. Then in a mere moment, he is back in the cavernous depths of his subconscious mind. He suffers anguish beyond anything the ordinary man may experience throughout an entire lifetime. His large frame trembles with unforgiving loathing and he has no control again. His impulses are a menace. They wage a war against the educated man inside him that wants to break the pattern and be something better, something healthier and more wholesome. He just never managed it.

He hears the smash of bones and sees the twisted neck of the person at his feet. Her eyes are wide open, bloodshot, yet lifeless.

A voice echoing inside his head taunts him: You are responsible.

***

Noah wakes up in a cold sweat, bolting up out of bed. He knows only that he feels numb and the crushing, strangulating desolation is hard to break free of. It was a dream, just a dream. He falls back down in bed, curling into a ball, and wishes Charlotte were with him. Ever since she left, he has been alone, tormented and reminded.

He undid her; she undid him.

Though she might be surviving, he is slowly falling into the pits of despair.

 

A FINE PROFESSION (the first of the chambermaid’s tales) IS CURRENTLY ON SALE…