DEADWALKER SUBDIVISION (SAMPLE)

SAMPLE CHAPTER 1

 Like a hungry lion, Jet paced along the promenade and waited for the Small Council to make its decision. Below, Pon-shea Sedona glided with confident purpose in front of the raspy old men and women who made up the board, seemingly oblivious to their own sunken eyes and ancient skin. She was the Princess of Popular Opinion and she commanded their respect. At Jet's side, Harbinger Grey struggled to keep up. He was the man in charge of dealing with the princess on a daily basis. He was her guardian, her mentor, her keeper.

"Really, Mr. Ravenaugh, this is only a formality. I have credited your account far above the sum we discussed." The old man was as ancient as the council below, probably grew up together, figured Jet.

"It's not about the money, I deal with adults." He could see the man had no argument as to Pon-shea's youth. "This is a serious business and she has too much attitude." Jet noticed her blue dress shimmered in the reflected light of prismatic windows that lit the room in a mock semblance of heaven. There was a fierce determination in those eyes, lips curled back in a half snarl, face flush with excitement at challenging the ancient relics before her. When she turned to glance up at him, he saw it was a game by the mischievous smile. Jet would have to wait and re-evaluate, and since he'd already been paid it was too late to turn back.

Harbinger Grey cleared his throat, "You're here to solve a crime, not run her through prep school again."

"Perhaps it won't be as bad as I think. She seems to have them wrapped around her finger."

"The Small Council clings to the notion they have the final say in matters of running Ketty's Subdivision," whispered Harbinger Grey. Foul breath assaulted Jet's nose, causing him to step back. The few teeth remaining were black stubs of decay and Jet estimated him to be two hundred fifty years old, but that shouldn't stop him from getting transplants. In his mind every one of the council needed a full body rejuvenation, and Grey needed a new mouth. He knew they were only a shadow of the political machine they thought they controlled, because the people elected the Princess of Popular Opinion, and the people were the government.

"From the looks of it, they control nothing," said Jet.

"Quite right, this is why I took the role of guardian when Pon-shea was elected. It's more stressful, but at least I'm part of something bigger. She is a great leader, despite her youth and she makes a difference."

"The Subdivision has only recently been reopened since the first alien war, but you seem to be experiencing unprecedented prosperity under the people led government."

"That's an understatement," growled Grey, "It never ceases to amaze me how she brings her people together on even mundane items of business. It is the perfect political machine at the moment."

"But every system has its weakness."

"There is no master on-off switch," Grey assured him, "the only thing to fear is the wrath of seventy trillion souls crashing down on your head if you cross her."

Jet picked at the worn spot on his holster in anticipation of some unknown trouble which always lurked around the corner. He'd never involved himself with politics because they held no interest and only seemed to fuel people's emotions, which inevitably led to murder. He wasn't paranoid, often in the past something bad happened when he felt this way. Instead, he remained transfixed on the raw beauty of his new charge to keep his wandering mind at bay. The Small Council had hired him to guard Pon-shea-sedona with his life, though he'd fought with every fiber of his being, in the end what choice did he have? He was a private investigator for crying out loud, not a baby sitter. Then there was the fact she was the prime suspect in a murder, which didn't sit well because it was a murder that she had hired him to solve.