The Bone Witch
most recent posts
My editor emailed me the cover mock-up to this last year. Yes, last year. That was how long I've been sitting on my hands with this information and this cover. Totally worth it. Behold! The fruit of my loins. Mind the thigh gap. LOOKIT HOW PRETTY IT IS. The shiny gold...read more
Yes - we're doing it again! HOW DOES THIS WORK? This bi-annual event was first organized by author Colleen Houck as a way to give readers a chance to gain access to exclusive bonus material from their favorite authors...and a chance to win some awesome prizes! At this...read more
After what feels like an eternity, I can - finally! - make my big announcement: "Annette Pollert-Morgan at Sourcebooks Fire has acquired two YA novels from Rin Chupeco. The first, entitled The Bone Witch, follows a young necromancer who recounts the dramatic story of...read more
Works in Progress
A list of upcoming works still a.) unfinished; b.) undergoing major revisions, or c.) suffering from acute plotdevelopmentlimboitis. All works still fictional. Especially the parts my mother disapproves of. And the parts that are illegal.
The Bone Witch
And as we watched, a cold, gray hand rose up, scratching and stretching, and gripped the tufts of weeds growing close to the grave. The strange being lifted itself out of its earthly prison with little difficulty, and brushed the dirt off its tall, thin form. My mother fainted.
When it raised its head I saw that it had my brother’s face, drawn and bloodless and dead.
“Tea,” the figure said.
But then it smiled, and it was Fox’s smile, quiet and kind.
The firebird chirped a warning, but the shades paid little heed. So it sighed – a resigned, I-really-did-warn-you-about-this-you-know sigh – and glowed. Its feathers, a variety of yellows and reds and oranges tipped with a subtle silver shimmer, flared. Its majestic tail fanned out like a vestal train, whipping at slow, concentrated intervals. Despite its bravado, it had a wide-eyed curiosity about it suggesting it had not been a firebird for very long and, if the shades had their way, would not be one for much longer.
Pending title: 'Quiet'
There is something in the corridor, a huddled shape against the brief snatches of lightning.
It is creeping along the floor.
It makes unintelligible sounds, mimicking words.
It is crawling toward me.