The Unraveling


Something is shaking Erin’s world. Freak storms and disastrous earthquakes ravage the land, and perfectly healthy people are suddenly dying. Are these harmless coincidences or deliberate, connected events?

Erin’s parents die of a mysterious fever, but she isn’t fooled. It is clearly murder. Why would someone want to kill a weaver and his wife? Besides, Erin can feel that same malevolent energy hunting her down. Is that a new skill she didn’t know she had?

With no time to grieve, Erin leaves home and joins a merchant caravan for protection and to give herself time to solve the puzzle.

Who killed her parents? Why are they trying to kill her, too? And why is the planet unraveling?

The Unraveling received the Indie Book of the Day award in 2014.

All morning she wove between wagons and booths, absorbing all of the fascinating sights and sounds. Every once in a while she drifted back to the miner’s wagons, but Lor seemed to be doing fine for the time being. Just past midday, the musicians came out and played on a platform set up for that purpose. Some of the trading slackened while people ate, listened or danced. It would pick up again by mid-afternoon. The day had been fascinating. She spent a quarter mark on a hot meat roll and a fruit blintz and worked her way to the cider seller and filled her cup for an eighth mark. She was sitting against a wagon wheel at the edge of the crowd, eating the last of her hot fruit treat when she caught a mental gust of… malignance.

It wasn’t the Seeker, but it was similar and the person was here. She brushed the crumbs off her shirt and licked her fingers while casually looking about. Keeping her door cracked open just a bit, she got up and moved around the crowd watching the musical performance. She paused here and there trying to locate the source. After awhile, she pinpointed two men standing between a booth with fresh rolls and the dancers. She drifted over to look at the rolls, keeping her back to the men. They were talking about having difficulty finding people.

“How does he expect us to identify these people? It’s not like they are wearing special guild badges,” said the man with a brown beard.

“We knew the job would be difficult when we joined up,” replied the one with a dusty hat. “It is a matter of talking to people and finding who they consider the good folk that seem wise and have been around awhile. It is not an exact science. We might make a few mistakes. So what?” He shrugged. “I think we were right with Auntie,” he said with a satisfied chuckle. Erin could feel a sinister kind of satisfaction coming from him.

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