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Thanks so much for reading. Book 3 happened faster than most other stories I’ve written, both inception and process; it was lovely to write so inspired. If you liked The Rat, please consider reviewing at your favourite retailer or book-sharing website. I hope you follow and enjoy the rest of the Treading Twisted Lines series as it comes.
Beth Madden
About the author:
Beth Madden, born in Brisbane, Australia, knew since childhood that she was meant to be a writer. She is in the process of writing several fantasy novels which she aspires to publish both in print and electronically, and writes a story called Behind Glass on her blog.
Studying at university from 2006, Beth received her Bachelors of Science and Arts in 2009, majoring in biomedical science, psychology, and Japanese. From July 2010 until July 2012 she worked in Kyoto, Japan as an assistant English teacher. Her experiences there lent to the conception of the Treading Twisted Lines series, and continue to influence much of her writing.
A music enthusiast, Beth sings soprano in the Queensland University Musical Society. She also plays piano, though her ability has decreased dramatically since she left school. Her favourite anime is Neon Genesis Evangelion (exposure to this show led to a two-year period focussed on writing sci fi stories, all which resemble the legendary anime), she used to collect porcelain dolls in droves (though sadly, many are now tucked away in boxes until she obtains more shelf space), and her ongoing unrealistic career aspiration, aside from writing, is to run away and join the circus as a singer.
Connect with me online:
Twitter: https://twitter.com/BLSMadden
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/blsmadden
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6876655.Beth_Madden
My blog: https://www.dollthermometer.wordpress.com
Coming Soon:
Suddenly Calling
Across Oshi Daini, the two am broadcast spoke to the night. It assured third shifters and restless sleepers of the time, temperature and weather, announcement and accompanying bells that pealed the hour in the city’s major temples as familiar to night owls as darkness itself.
Ordinarily when such broadcasts blared, Kana would check her phone. She had to be sure her time matched the city’s and Raia was on schedule. Kana’s hand crept to the outer pocket of her uniform vest—it was designed to store the issued device. She almost felt its solid, familiar edge through the cotton.
The sensation was phantom—her pocket was empty, her phone in the river.
‘A further message. Area Police are currently in pursuit of a delinquent, female. Name, Kanara Arrou. Age, 17. Hair, dark blonde. Eyes, grey-black. Complexion, moderate brown. Area of Birth, Sairin, Oshi Daiyon. This delinquent is possibly dangerous and may be in the company of an unmarked dog—breed, boxer. If you have any information as to this delinquent’s whereabouts, mail the Oshi Daini Central Branch of the Area Police immediately. If sighted, this delinquent should not be approached. Any sightings are to be reported directly to the Area Police Emergency Contact Centre by phone call.’
Back to cement, Kana squatted in Yagawa’s Market Lane Twelve, Charm’s warm neck to her cheek. It was distinctly collarless. She shouldn’t have been so quick to throw the pretty band away.
It had been a gift from Raia …
No. She had to focus. Raia would be fine. She would be punished, but Kana’s friend could handle it. Raia was much stronger than her uncle.
Making herself be practical, Kana unravelled her peasant braids—they would betray her origins faster than her eyes—and yanked the scarf from her throat, tying it over her hair in feeble disguise. Then, fingers swift, Kana braided her ribbons.
‘Hold still for me, Charm-girl,’ she whispered, fastening the improvised collar about the boxer’s neck. Not one of Charm’s impressive young muscles twitched.
Stroking her dog, sharing in the comfort, Kana rose, her legs numb. She couldn’t stay there, crouched in shadow and humidity. Any vendor might remember her face and contact police. Too many loitered in the market streets; the night bazaar had shut down only an hour ago.
Thankfully, no head cocked at the announcement. No eyes narrowed at her picture where it hovered on screens up and down the darkened street. The night crawlers were all occupied by bottles and lovers, or else packed wares into tiny trucks, too busy to notice. But Kana didn’t want to be about when someone did start paying attention.
Within Yagawa, Kana knew every turn, every sign. But Sekirobudan, Eji, Hoekazeshin … her grasp of the inner districts dwindled beyond her own. But with no place to go and no information, no idea how near any officer might be, one direction was as good as another. So she set off for Sekirobudan, hoping to leave the impression she belonged with the socked-out socialiser and glares of headlights and push bikes that pedalled past in the gutter.
‘To me, Charm.’
The boxer padded after her, shoulder in line with Kana’s hip. Maybe she should twist a leash to match the collar … no. A homeless girl might leash her dog so. Homeless she was, but in uniform, sweat-stained though it was, Kana looked too respectable.
Respectable enough to own a dog trained to heel without a leash? Probably not. She needed somewhere to sit tight. Somewhere safe. But for how long … one thing at a time. Where did the masses live in Sekirobudan? All she’d ever seen on the Link were the everlasting flames of the city’s famous hearthstone crackling at the base of its central tower.
At a distance, Oshi Daini might be polished and sprawling, a shining capital to look up to. Up close at this hour, it was all tight corners and darkness. Soon, Kana and Charm found themselves in a precinct of high-density one-rooms, alleys formed by dozens and dozens of the boxy buildings.
Flinching as a trio of sirens screamed several turns away, Kana gazed about the claustrophobic alley. It was so much like home.
Kana wasn’t sentimental. But her defences were down. Familiarity clashed with uncertainty and the night’s events, and she was turned about, her perception shot.
Dizzy, though she stood quite still, Kana was overcome.
But she’d kept it together since her escape. She could hold it in … a few … moments … more.
Moving stiffly, then faster, stumbling with the roaring rush of stress and grief, she lurched for a massive steel cage bursting with rubbish bags. Behind it, she sank to her knees under an emergency stairwell. Hidden by stink and burning with loss, Kana buried her face in her hands. Charm rested her head on Kana’s knee, gazing at her solemnly.
Startling a muted squeak from the boxer, Kana seized Charm’s firm bulk, squeezing tight. The boxer grumbled comfortingly. A moment later, Kana lost to tears.
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