This is pretty much how I see her in my head.
(*note the story was published a while ago, before I decided to take on the new pen name…sorry for the confusion this might cause. Also! You can read that story for free at Tor.com)
The entire series started from her. I’ve wanted to write UF for a long, long time, but just had no luck selling the proposals I’d put together. This was just going to be a short story, but I kept having people ask…and I did like Kit. I would fiddle with the idea of expanding it into a more solid world, but nothing ever happened.
I wanted to make something happen, but the ideas I’d sketched out just weren’t coming together. Then in January, they came together. In a whoa, helluva a big way. The book basically attacked my brain. I was hearing Kit’s voice in my head when I tried to sleep.
I’d see bits and pieces of Kit’s life unfolding in my head…hear the voices she heard…
Hold that weapon steady, Kitasa—useless waste. Oh, dear. You dropped your guard—
I’d see the images she saw.
“For one…the hair is the wrong color. My kid is a blond. And… He’s not a cat. I think this boy was a wolf.” Even though life had left him, I could sense that fading energy. He hadn’t been dead long enough for it fade completely and I could still see it, hovering over him like a creature in mourning.
I could almost hear its grieving howl echoing through the air as I crouched down by the table, studying the disaster that had been his face. “Shit, what did they do to him, Linc?”
And I got to meet the people she met.
“Don’t you want to know what the bet was?” he asked, watching me with an odd little smile on his face.
“Bet?” I said, echoing his words.
Unable to stay still, I took a pen from my desk and twirled it around on my fingers, watching him, waiting for him to elaborate. The silence stretched out for over a minute. It wasn’t wasted time. He watched me. I watched him. A wide grin curled his lips, his teeth flashing white against the darkness of his skin. I started thinking about the Cheshire cat.
Bingo. Not a wolf. A cat. Even as I thought it, I could almost see that lazy energy around him flex its claws and stretch, giving me a feline smile.
And I got to know her.
And I really, really like her.
When in doubt—or terror—reach for the sarcasm.
Shiloh Walker/J.C. Daniels