BVC Announces Traitor by Sherwood Smith
Traitor
by Sherwood Smith
In the darkness of defeat, can hope catch fire?
The greatly anticipated final book in the Change series. In a world of mutant powers and deadly creatures, one small town faces its worst nightmare…
In a single shocking night, Las Anclas is conquered. Voske rules the town, remaking it in his image. He brings Opportunity Day to Las Anclas, with its terrifying lottery of “Change or die.” He forces Paco into the role of his son and prince, always watching him for signs of rebellion. And for those who escaped his net, he sends elite Changed soldiers to drag them back to be executed.
Inside Las Anclas, Paco and Becky play a nerve-shattering game of cat and mouse, plotting a resistance under Voske’s eye. Outside the walls, Ross, Mia, Jennie, and Kerry desperately evade pursuit and try to free their town. And Felicite, alone, must face the choice she’s given up everything to avoid.
In the darkness of defeat, can hope catch fire?
Book 4 in The Change series
____
Rachel Manija Brown is a therapist and a writer.
Sherwood Smith writes fantasy and science fiction.
Buy Traitor in the BVC bookstore
Read a Sample
♦ 1 ♦
FELICITÉ
LAS ANCLAS – WOLFE HOUSE
Felicité hefted a hammer, then yanked down the towel covering her mirror. One good blow, and she’d never again have to see her hideous mutant face.
“Wu Zetian, go to your house,” Felicité ordered.
Her golden rat gazed at her with shining black eyes. Felicité stroked the only creature in the world who had seen her repulsive monster face and loved her anyway.
“Darling, I’ll be fine. I’ll feel much better once this is done. But you need to stay safe.” Felicité gently tapped the rat under her chin. “Go.”
Wu Zetian scurried into her house, and Felicité covered it with the towel. Then she turned back to the disgusting, ugly mirror framing her disgusting, ugly face.
She hit the mirror with all her strength.
Cracks spiderwebbed across the mirror. She struck it again. A few shards fell to the floor, but most stayed in place.
“Felicité!” It was Grandmère’s voice! She sounded like she was right outside the bedroom door.
Felicité had thought it would only take one blow, and that no one would hear her if she shut her door and waited till everyone was asleep. She couldn’t even do this right. And there was still the long mirror in her bathroom. She swung the hammer again and again, until there was nothing left but shards. Felicité stood in a sea of shattered glass, each fragment reflecting her hideousness.
“Felicité! Open this door immediately!” The door rattled, but the lock held.
She bolted for the bathroom. She had to destroy the last mirror before her grandmother fetched the key. She swung the hammer feverishly, glass tinkling down, until someone grabbed her arm. Felicité jumped. She hadn’t heard anyone come in.
“Felicité, what are you doing?” Grandmère was in her nightgown, her usually neat hair rumpled. Mother was at her shoulder with a robe over her gown. Her hair was tied back, and she looked very tired.
Felicité’s angry triumph faded, leaving her numb and empty. The mirrors were gone, but she was still a monster. She was thousands of monsters scattered across the floor.
“Felicité,” Grandmère said gently. “Why don’t you put down the hammer, and come talk to us?”
“I’m done talking!” Felicité screamed. Oh, it felt good to scream! For years, she’d been so careful to modulate her voice properly, like a future mayor, and for what? She’d never be a mayor. Everyone hated her—but no one more than she hated herself.
She looked around for something else to destroy. The bathtub! The place where the monster came out. Felicité hadn’t dared to get into it for months. She threw the hammer as hard as she could. A huge crack appeared in the porcelain. Felicité smiled. Now they’d have to get rid of the tub.
Mother went out, and Grandmère spread out the bath towels to cover the broken glass. Felicité turned her hot, angry gaze to her, then saw a vein flicker in the delicate hollow in her grandmother’s temple. A wave of guilt washed away the anger. She’d never seen her grandmother so upset. Not even when Grandmère’s own Change had emerged at menopause and she’d nearly burned down the schoolhouse, or the night she’d left Las Anclas to live in a fireproof house outside its walls, not knowing if she’d ever be able to control her Change and come back.
“I just…” Felicité’s voice trailed off. There was no way she could explain what she’d done. Her mother and Grandmère must think she’d lost her mind.
Maybe she had.
“Darling, let us tend to your feet.” Grandmère took a bottle of disinfectant alcohol from the cupboard as Mother reappeared with bandages. They returned to the bedroom, where Mother pulled off the bedding and dropped it over the broken glass. Felicité’s feet made red prints on the coverlet. They sat on the bed with Felicité in the middle, and Mother pulled Felicité’s feet into her lap. They left red smears on her grass-green silk nightdress embroidered with spring wildflowers.
Felicité ruined everything.