Ghost Heart (The PSS Chronicles #3) by Ripley Patton
Age Group: Young Adult
Genre: Paranormal Thriller
Release Date: October 14. 2014
Buy Links:
Amazon ♥ B & N
Book Description:
In the aftermath of a brutal tragedy, Jason and Passion are on the run. Marcus is lost beyond reach, and The Hold is in shambles.
If that weren't enough, Olivia Black has been taken by the CAMFers to be used as Dr. Fineman's personal lab rat in his merciless quest to uncover the mysteries of Psyche Sans Soma once and for all. But only if he can break her.
They are scattered.
They are devastated.
They are ruined.
Their only hope is Olivia's stubborn determination to thwart her captors and unlock the secrets of her ghost hand before Dr. Fineman can. Will she finally find the strength within herself to embrace the full power of her PSS?
And will it even matter if Marcus has already betrayed her?
When I came to, I wasn't back in my cell. I was still handcuffed to the chair in the interrogation room with Dr. Fineman and Anthony. I was slumped over the table, my hair wet with blood from the blow to my ear. It wasn't crusting though, which meant I'd only been out a few minutes.
"Welcome back," Anthony said, grabbing my hair and lifting my head up, leaving a brownish-red smear on the table where it had been. "No time for naps. We're not done with you yet."
My head was spinning, and I felt like I might throw up. If I did, I would aim for the doctor. And that's when I noticed the new guy in the room. He was a CAMFer soldier, an older guy I didn't recognize with a prominent scar across his right cheek, running from eye to chin. I did the best I could to pretend he wasn't intimidating, but he was. I had a bad feeling the torture was about to ramp up a notch. Great. Something to look forward to.
"This is Major Tom," Dr. Fineman introduced him, smiling. "And he has somewhat of a bone to pick with you."
Really? Major Tom? Was that his real name or was he just a huge David Bowie fan? Either way, I was pretty sure I'd never met the guy. And if he was out to get me, he should probably get in line.
"You see," Dr. Fineman said, "The Major had a reputation as one of the best knife fighters on this continent. I say 'had' because it was somewhat ruined when you stole a knife from his person and used it to stab three of his men."
Shit. This was the guy who'd been carrying me the night of the Eidolon. I hadn't seen his face because I'd been slung over his shoulder. But I had reached straight into his back with my ghost hand and pulled out a knife, the same knife that was now sitting on the table in front of me. My eyes flashed to it.
"Yes," Dr. Fineman said, smiling at me. "Now you understand." He turned to Anthony. "Let's have the other hand for this," he directed. Anthony fumbled at my flesh hand, unlocking the handcuffs. Then he yanked my left arm onto the table, pinning my hand palm-up.
I didn't struggle. It wouldn't do any good. Anthony had proved many times he was stronger than me. Still, sometimes I could outsmart him if I was patient enough. He wasn't the brightest crayon in the box. For example, he'd just forgotten to recuff my other arm to the chair, and my ghost hand was now tucked in my lap, hidden under the table.
Dr. Fineman picked up the knife, turning it in his hands. Then he lowered it gently, setting it in my open palm, handle-first.
I was never willingly going to do what they wanted me to. They were going to have to force my hand every inch of the way.
Anthony squeezed my wrist even harder as Dr. Fineman closed my fingers around the knife.
Suddenly, I was standing at the door, huge and looming, looking at the pitiful, bloody, minus girl. No, at me. I was looking at me.
"She's in my fucking head," I—he—Major Tom said, stumbling back toward the door. "I can feel her there. I can feel where she is."
"Hold your ground," Dr. Fineman barked at me—no, him. I wasn't him.—and I held steady at the door, remembering my training and honoring my rank. This little bitch wasn't going to embarrass me a second time. What the fuck? That hadn't been my thought. It had been his thought in my head.
I looked down at the knife in my hand and tried desperately to unclench my fingers, but Dr. Fineman squeezed them even harder around it.
Author Bio:
Ripley Patton lives in Portland, Oregon with one cat, two teenagers, and a man who wants to live on a boat.
She is an award-winning short story writer and author of The PSS Chronicles, a young adult paranormal thriller series.
Ripley doesn't smoke, or drink, or cuss as much as her characters. Her only real vices are writing, eating M&Ms, and watching reality television.
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