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New York City, 2144

Maya Petrovskii lives in a world that hasn't seen the sun in thirteen years. For in the year 2131, humans thought they could fix the dissolving ozone layer and global warming by releasing a biological agent into the sky. It backfired and many died.

Luckily, the Clandestine People, comprised of witches, werewolves, vampires, and shape shifters, foresaw this outcome and saved as many of the humans as they could. But by the year 2144, as the remaining humans grow in numbers, not all are happy to live alongside the Clandestine People. They feel threatened. They want control.
Maya, the only granddaughter of the royal werewolf family, has chosen to avoid her royal privilege and join The Squad, the military of the Clandestine People. She and her friends must work under the radar to keep the Clandestine World from going to war with the humans, who want her kind in cages.

Not all of the Clandestine are honest. Not all of the humans are who they seem.

Can Maya help keep the peace before more people die?

HEROES SQUARE - Short Story I of the Clandestine Conflict Short Series

YA Urban Fantasy / © 2013 Tamsin L. Silver



The explosion erupted as if the gates of hell had opened up beneath her feet. The force of the blast tossed her like a rag doll into the air. Crashing through the window of a nearby building, the blast propelled her across the office inside and into a wall.

Coughing out, Maya pressed a button on her vest. “Run diagnostic.”

“RUNNING DIAGNOSTIC” ran across the faceplate of her helmet for her to read.

As she attempted to stay conscious, she felt the needle inside the vest push into her skin to read her vitals. She winced briefly.

As she waited for the comp unit in her vest to analyze her blood, she could feel herself starting to lose consciousness. Finally, she saw it begin to run its findings on the faceplate. It said, “SILVER CONTAMINATION: 72%.”

“Shit,” was all she said before the darkness pulled her under.

*   *   *   *


Lights flashed in her eyes. On, off, on, off, from one eye to the next. She blinked, trying to focus. Where was she? She could just make out Andrian’s face above hers. He was talking but she couldn’t hear him. All she heard was a horrible, high-pitched ringing. Unable to focus, she closed her eyes again.

The lights that passed by her closed eyelids were different from before. Opening her eyes, she saw they were fluorescent ceiling lights passing above her every few feet as her body rolled down a hall. Andrian’s face was there again. She still couldn’t hear him, but she could read his lips.

“Hang in there, just hang in there.”

A man in white attempted to detach him from the gurney. Reluctantly Andrian began to back away, but she reached for him, grasping his wrist tightly. She needed to tell him.

“I’ll be right here. You’ll be fine,” Andrian’s lips said.

She shook her head and pain slammed into her, forcing her eyes open in shock. She didn’t have time for that now though. Swallowing back the bile the pain caused, she tried to speak. He moved closer. The doctor attempted to remove him again. This time she said, “No.” Or maybe she yelled it. She couldn’t hear so she wasn’t sure. Either way, everyone seemed to stop and she said, “I saw him."

His lips formed the word, “Who?”

“The bomber. I saw his face.”

With that, the doctor finally won and detached him from her grasp, wheeling her into surgery, where she again blacked out.

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