Some writers “cast” their
characters before they pen the first word of their story. I didn’t search for actors or models to serve
as references for my characters before I wrote Emily’s House, Book 1 of
the Akasha Chronicles. But when I set out to write Book 2, Emily’s Trial,
I decided to give casting my characters a shot.
It was a lot of fun to search
out real-world faces to match the characters I’d created in my mind. There
aren’t any exact matches of course. But I’ve come pretty close here.
Allow me to introduce you
to the cast of Emily’s Trial:
Actress Rachel Hurd-Wood |
Behind the Scenes at Photo Shoot for Emily's Trial Cover Photo copyright Teresa Yeh |
Armed with her magical
dagger and wearing the golden torc, forged long ago by faerie hands, Emily is
ready to take on the forces of darkness in Emily’s Trial. But will desire
tempt her to use the powerful magic entrusted to her in a forbidden way? And
what will happen to her and her friends if she succumbs to the forces of
temptation?
Fanny Katz – played by Allisyn Ashley Arm. Fanny is the wisecracking, loyal friend
to Emily. The two friends have known each other since pre-school. Fanny has
always had Emily’s back. But in Emily’s Trial, the friendship is tested.
Will their bond survive the ordeal of Emily’s Trial?
Fanny’s strong, athletic
and although physically small, can kick the ass of just about anybody. When I’m
writing, Fanny’s voice comes out with a potty mouth! So to keep the Akasha
Chronicles series YA appropriate, I’ve had to tone down her language ;-) It has
been a fun challenge to try to find other ways to say her trash-mouth phrases
that won’t scald the ears of parents and librarians!
Those
smoldering eyes, the full lips, the dark hair. Ian is slightly older than Owen,
and Owen has dark, chocolate-brown eyes. But the swagger is all Owen. I think
Ian Somerhalder could persuade me to do anything he wanted me to. Hell, I don’t
think it would take much persuading!
Jake Stevens – Played by Sterling
Beaumon. If you’ve read book 1, Emily’s House, then you know that Jake and
Emily have been best friends since they were little kids. Jake is super-smart
and as loyal as they come. What he lacks in courage, he makes up for with his calm,
level-headed reason. When the shit hits the fan, and you find yourself in a big
mess, Jake is the go-to guy to come up with a plan to get you out (a good
thing, because Emily has a way of getting herself into lots of messes!).
Astute
readers of book 1 may have guessed it, but in Emily’s Trial, it’s
confirmed – Jake has been crushing on Emily - big time! But the oblivious Miss
Adams hasn’t put it together. When they’re thrust into danger, will Emily start
to crush on him too? And if she does, is it too late for them?
What’s a story without some conflict – antagonists? Emily’s got plenty
of antagonists in Emily’s Trial. Her old nemesis Greta Hoffman makes an
appearance in Emily’s Trial.
In Emily’s House, we learned that Greta was the kind of girl
that, as a child, could melt the hearts of adults with her blonde curls and large,
blue eyes. Greta still uses her physical beauty and charm to get what she
wants.
There are plenty of blonde-haired, blue-eyes beauties in Hollywood.
But whoever plays Greta has to have something other than good looks. After all,
Greta has to hold her own against Emily Adams – no wimpy, lithe runway walker
will do!
One last character to get you in the spirit of it all. A nasty
creature – sometimes I wonder where my brain comes up with this stuff! Should I
be worried?!
And mixed it with this . . .
The mixture would turn out to look a lot like Dorcha, a strange
creature that roams the Umbra Perdita.
There are other characters to meet in the pages of Emily’s Trial,
but I have to leave you some surprises.
Excerpt of Emily's Trial:
1
The Apocalypse didn’t start
with four horsemen, harbingers of the horror to come. It didn’t start with a
plague, or pestilence, or even zombies rising from the dead.
It came
slowly and without warning. It crept up on people in the shadows, no more than a
vague darkness that spread like an unseen cancer.
And it wasn’t
set into action by a divine hand. A teenage girl was the catalyst for the End
Times.
I should
know. I’m the one that started it.
I didn’t
plan to. I didn’t want to start the End Times, and I’m not evil.
Madame Wong
taught me to tell the truth, and so here it is. I’m the one responsible for the
Apocalypse. And this is the story of how I unwittingly unlocked the door to the
darkness; of how a Priestess of the Order of Brighid, entrusted with powerful
magic that was supposed to be used for the benefit of all humankind, unleashed
a force that would destroy it instead.
And it all
began with desire.
I sat at our
usual lunch table with Jake, Fanny and my ever-present lunchtime entourage of
sycophants. I had become Emily, the lunchtime Circus Freak.
The torc was
still wrapped around my arm, still welded to my soul by the faerie magic that
had created it. The torc still feeding my powers.
But was I
out saving old ladies from muggers? Did I use my powers to fight evil, like
some teenage superhero? No. I used the torc’s power to levitate objects in the
lunchroom and eavesdrop into the minds of others.
I had become
notorious. But notoriety is not the same as popularity – or acceptance.
When we got
back from Europe, I stopped hiding my abilities, and I told my story to anyone
who’d listen. Sure, people were amazed – in awe even. But the more I told the
truth of who I was – really was – the
farther away I got from acceptance by ‘them’.
Owen Breen
was one of ‘them’. On the other side of the lunchroom at the table where he
held court. He was in a whole different hemisphere from ‘us’. Owen’s hemisphere
consisted of the popular seniors and a few of ‘them’ from the junior class. My
hemisphere was filled with ‘us’, the freaks, the geeks and others on the
fringe.
It had all
started with desire, and Owen Breen was the well of desire from which I wanted
to drink.
I’d sneak
looks at him every chance I got. I felt pulled in by his dark, chocolate eyes.
I wanted to dive into those eyes.
What would happen if our hemispheres meet? What
would it be like to kiss his full lips?
“Emily!”
Someone was
yelling my name.
“Em. Earth
to Em!”
It was
Fanny.
“Huh?”
“You’re
hoarding the salt. Pass it over.” She said it extremely slowly, as if she was
talking to a small child.
“Oh. Sure.”
The clear shaker lifted in the air and floated across the table to Fanny.
“You could
use your hands, you know,” Jake said.
“I can,
it’s just more fun to do it with my mind.”
He rolled his eyes at me.
“Where were you?” Fanny asked.
If you
only knew!
“You weren’t eavesdropping in someone’s
head again, were you? ’Cause you agreed that was rude and you’d stop,” Jake
said.
“No, I wasn’t reading any minds.” But that’s an excellent idea. What’s in Owen’s
mind?
One of the freshmen at our table, a kid
called Skip, whined at me. “Emily, we’re so bored.
Show us something. Something big.”
Bored. He was bored. He didn’t know anything about boredom. None of them
did.
Two years ago, I flew on a plane with
Fanny and Jake – no parents – to Ireland, went to another dimension, fought
supernatural ninjas, met alien entities, and – oh yeah – saved the world from a
runaway black hole! And here I was, playing at being the lunchtime circus show,
plodding through the days, waiting for something to happen. Anything.
What did they know about boredom?
“Come on, Emily. Show us something.”
Fine.
They want a show. I’ll give them a show.
I looked around the room for something
to use as a demonstration. Something to please the gawkers.
And there she was. Perfect.
Greta walked from Owen’s table, with
two of her friends beside her. She carried her half-eaten salad on a tray, the
leftover greens drenched with dressing.
It’d been a while since I attempted a
levitation from so far away. I wondered if I could do it.
I heard Madame Wong’s voice in my head.
“Time, distance – no matter. All things
are one with Akasha.” I took a deep breath.
Greta’s salad bowl lifted off her tray.
She didn’t seem to notice it at first. But whispers started, then kids were pointing
to her, and some were laughing.
I saw Greta look around. Her face
changed to a grimace when she realized the whispers,
laughs and pointing were aimed at her. She stopped in her tracks, looked around
and then noticed her salad bowl was missing. She followed the finger pointing
and glanced up.
The salad
bowl was perched about six inches above her head, waiting for my command to
dump the oily contents all over her. If I chose to give the direction.
Greta’s face
flushed. She glared at me with utter venom in her eyes.
“Don’t you
dare, Freak Girl!” she screamed.
“What are
you doin’, Em?” Jake asked.
There was a
buzz of noise rising in the cafeteria.
“Having some
fun.”
“I don’t
think you should do this,” he said.
“Why?
Because it’s not befitting a Priestess of Brighid? Because it’s bad manners?”
“Well, yeah,
for a start. And maybe because you don’t need to go starting a war with Greta.”
I dismissed
Jake with a roll of my eyes. The salad bowl still teetered over Greta as she
stormed toward me.
“I’m tired
of you telling me how to be a Priestess, Jake. I didn’t see you in the
Netherworld, getting rapped with Madame Wong’s staff or sliced by her sword.
You’re not the one who saved our collective bacon. Just leave me alone.”
Jake got up
from the bench and picked up his tray. “Fine. I’ll leave you alone. Do what you
want. You always do anyway.” He huffed off.
Man, he’s snippy at me lately! What’s up his butt?
“Come on,
Em. You’ve had your fun. Jake’s right about Greta. You don’t need to start
anything with her,” Fanny whispered to me.
“Why? She’s
taken plenty of shots at me over the years. Why shouldn’t I get a little
payback?”
I could feel
Fanny staring at me, waiting for me to turn to her. When I did, her eyes were
set and hard, locking with mine.
“Because you’re
better than her.”
Blast it, I
hate it when Fanny’s right. And she was right. I didn’t need to stoop to Greta’s
level. I’d show her that I could be the bigger person.
Greta was
almost to our table, the salad still obeying my order to hover over her head.
But then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw Owen walking my way too, down the
aisle between two sets of tables.
My eyes were
magnets drawn to his eyes. His lips were pulled into a half-smirk, half-smile,
revealing a small dimple in his right cheek, but not his left. That little
asymmetry made it all the more adorable. I wanted to kiss that dimple. And his
lips. The soft pout of his lower lip made me want to …
A loud
scream pulled me out of my daydream, then laughing and applause erupted. Dang
it. I’d lost my concentration on the salad bowl, and it fell, landing first on
Greta’s head. It spilled greasy dressing all over her head before dropping to
the floor.
I’m not sure
what made her more angry. The oily dressing covering her head and shoulders, a
bit of it dripping down her forehead, or the applause erupting from the crowd
and cheers for me.
Popularity
is such a crazy thing. Most of us want to be the popular kid – be a Greta or an
Owen. But when a popular is taken down a peg, we cheer. Go figure.
Owen stopped
and took in the scene, then continued walking the five feet or so he had left
to get to my table, then he stopped.
He stood
across from me and stared. His face was framed by his dark, wavy hair. It
looked soft and was just long enough to run your fingers through. Owen looked
me straight in the eyes with his smoldering, dark ones. He held my gaze, our
eyes locked.
My heart
began to beat faster, my stomach roiling. Was he going to scold me for
humiliating one of his posse? Or was he going to … what?
Then he said,
“Take a bow, Miss Magic. That’s the funniest thing I’ve seen in a long time,”
as he cocked his head toward Greta.
At first, my
legs were frozen. I sat numbly, unable to speak. Then I found the ability to do
what he said. I got up and bowed first to my left, then my right, the applause
growing louder.
When I
raised my head, Owen was gone, already pushing his way through the doors out of
the lunchroom. But Greta was there, standing right across from me. Her neck,
face, and ears were a red flame of anger. Her icy blue eyes, framed by strands
of greasy hair, shot daggers at me.
“You’ll
regret this, Freak Girl.”
“Whatever,”
I said and laughed.
Greta didn’t
laugh. She stood there, stinking of garlicky Italian dressing, her hands still
gripping her tray.
“You may
think you’re all that because you’ve got some stupid powers. But you’re still a
freak, and that’s all you’ll ever be.” Then she stormed off, her two lap-dog
friends on her heels.
Out loud, I
laughed.
Inside, I
wondered if what she said was true. Greta knew how to push all my buttons, how
to bring out every insecurity I had. Could I ever be more than a side show? And
could a guy like Owen ever be interested in a freak like me?
Greta
stormed off. The show was over, and the bell would soon ring. The buzz of
talking and laughter began to die down as people packed up their stuff and
left.
“You shouldn’t
have done it,” Fanny said.
“I know. I
didn’t plan to. My concentration was … broken.”
“By what?
You’ve never dropped anything before. You’ve levitated me for close to an hour.
Don’t tell me Greta rattled you enough to drop that bowl.”
“It wasn’t
her. She doesn’t rattle me.”
Yes, she does.
“Then what?”
I whispered
low, so only Fanny would hear. “Owen Breen,” I confided.
“What?
Breen? You’ve gotta be kidding,” she shrieked.
“Shh.” I put
my finger to my lips. “This is between just you and me, okay? Don’t tell Jake.”
“Oh, I won’t
tell Jake. It would crush him.”
“Whad’ya mean?”
“Man, for supposedly
being an enlightened person, you sure are dense sometimes.”
“And what’s
that supposed to mean?”
“Never mind.”
The bell
rang. Time for chemistry class. Greta was in that class. I hoped she didn’t
show that day, covered in grease and stinking of Italian dressing. It made my
gut feel sick to think about it.
Fanny didn’t
say anything to me as we headed to our lockers to get stuff for the afternoon.
What had she meant about Jake being crushed if he found out I had a thing for
Owen? And was Owen really out of my league? Even though we lived in two
different hemispheres, couldn’t we meet somewhere around the equator?
As I walked
to class, I decided to put Owen out of my mind. He’d laughed at my silly parlor
trick, but he’d never look my way again.
* * *
Sometimes
you’re as wrong as a left turn on red.
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2 comments:
My favorite thing to do on Halloween is to dole out candy to the Trick-or-Treaters. We had 232 Trick-or-Treaters this Halloween. It was a record for us!
catherinelee100 at gmail dot com
And, DAM that's a ugly cat!
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