Dy lives and writes in Adelaide, South Australia. Her partner is a great cook and doesn’t mind when she forgets to eat dinner (much). She has a 10 year old daughter who inhales chocolate and looks like Twiggy; shares a house with two dogs, two cats, a naughty but loveable parrot and several fish.
Her background is in classics, anthropology and social work and she spent much of her childhood travelling throughout south-east Asia and the south Pacific, learning about other cultures.
Her days are spent writing, spending time with family and friends, freelance editing and chatting with crit buddies. If she’s not on the computer you can find her reading, daydreaming, drawing, haunting antiquarian bookshops or working on her latest novel.
Dy has a MA in Creative Writing from Adelaide University and is a graduate of the Odyssey Science Fiction Fantasy Workshop 2012.
A spell addicted female whose art burns holes in the fabric of reality falls for the warrior warlock sent to kill her. Are they a match made in Heaven or Hell?
Maya McAdam has never quite fit in, even on Earth where the magical elite sells alchemy on the black market. She has wild visions of conveyer belts turning into snakes and draws surrealistic pictures of places she’s never been. Partying and tossing back spells seems like a good way of avoiding her problems.
A week before her twenty-fifth birthday, her surrealist paintings finally sell. When a scarred stranger watches her from behind one of her sketches, she knows life is going to hell.
Maya would never have imagined she’s the daughter of a cursed king, and a bargaining tool for magical guilds. Will she fight demons and give up a desire for spells so she can find love with a warlock? Or will she leave her friends and become the nightmare the magical elite fears?
Maya ran out of the bathroom and jerked to a stop, shocked.
An ultraviolet mist filled the room. Huge sparks of static and miniature lightning bolts zapped across the ceiling. Resh had removed his shirt and stood with his sword on his back in the middle of the circle. It had become a swirling vortex beneath his feet. Sweat beaded his forehead, his body slick with sweat and layered with slabs of muscle. He had one hand raised as if controlling the fury.
Her heart skipped a beat.
Wind funneled from the maelstrom, clutching Maya's hair and slicing across her face. The skin between her shoulder blades tingled.
The eye had disappeared. But the room now leaned at an odd angle to the right, making her want to tilt her head in response.
"Get your bag." He'd regressed to his native cadence, thick and foreign sounding.
"My God, it's beautiful." She shuddered, prickles of heat running up her spine.
"Don't be afraid." He held his other hand out to her.
With a deep breath, she threw on her backpack, stepped across the threshold of the circle, and placed her hand in his hot clasp. She was leaving home. Tears blurred her sight and she tightened her grip, feeling his rough calluses beneath her fingers.
Immediately the smell of blood and ozone filled her senses. Her stomach hollowed, like she'd been punched and she gasped.
"Don't let go of my hand. If the ritual stops before reconstruction, one or both of us will be destroyed. If we arrive in different places, head for the fort. Ask for Alexandr. I'll find you." He leaned over her shoulder, stuffing something into the pocket of her leather backpack.
She opened her mouth to ask how she'd find this fort, and why they might get separated but thunder boomed and the floor shook. Her heart rate accelerated.
"We need to go." He shouted above the raging mass of sound, his eyes weirdly opaque and glassy.
The floor burned through the soles of her boots. She shifted her feet.
"It will be fine." Something gentle brushed the top of her head. The room darkened and she spun her head in time to see the glass window shattering.
A massive white bolt of lightning sliced through the air, sending a shock wave of electricity through the apartment. The circle lit up with a wash of blue-green eddies. The colors unwrapped, expanded and surged toward them. The electrical charge stung her skin and her hair frizzled, the acrid smell burning her nostrils.
Energy particles separated and lifted around her, and she heard a low bell-like tone. She felt herself being pulled toward the sound. Her bones twisted and contorted in excruciating agony for long seconds. Then the room disappeared and she fell, tasting rich blood on her tongue.
Liquid Silver Books: http://www.lsbooks.com/illusion-p716.php
Barnes & Noble: http://tinyurl.com/bol75tm