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Equal parts Light and Shadow, Joanna Archer must fulfill a destiny she never wanted. Once a photographer and heiress to a casino fortune, she is now dedicated to the cause of good . . . but susceptible to the seductions of evil.
A deadly virus is descending on Las Vegas—a terrifying plague unleashed by the powerful overlord of Zodiac's dark side: Joanna's father. Chaos and panic grip Sin City as agents of Light fall prey to the terrifying epidemic. Death reigns supreme—and Joanna stands at dead center of an epic and terrible war long foretold, the last hope of a damned world.
But first she must somehow conquer the malevolence that grows all around her . . . and within.
More Reviews and RecommendationsAfter a decade dancing with the Tropicana's Folies Bergere, Las Vegas native Vicki Pettersson traded in her sequins for a laptop and became a writer. "Blending dark fantasy and hard-boiled mystery with elements of romance and apocalyptic thriller... [Pettersson's novels are] set amid the neon-lit glitziness of Sin City and feature Joanna Archer, one of the most intriguing and unfathomably deep heroines to grace the pages of a supernatural fantasy in ages," say our editors.
More About the AuthorReader Rating:
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October 24, 2009: Joanna Archer's story is one of a superhero in the making. This heroine is finding that being a superhero has not made her life, already filled with a tragic past, any easier. In this second book of the series, she finds herself struggling to adjust and find her place in her new reality, unable to let go of her past, her love, and herself. Vicki Petterson's Joanna Archer is the Luke Skywalker of Las Vegas. A young woman coming into powers she never dreamt of, and coping with the duality behind those powers. Joanna is proof that superheroes are human.
Reader Rating:
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August 26, 2009: second book in the series, very enjoyable.... if you liked the first book you wont be disappointed.... but read the first book before starting this one... or the story will be hard to follow.
Name:
Vicki Pettersson
Current Home:
Las Vegas, Nevada
Date of Birth:
November 26, 1971
Place of Birth:
Las Vegas, Nevada
Education:
B.A. in English, University of Las Vegas, 1994
Las Vegas native Vicki Pettersson always loved to write, but a post-college stint in public relations convinced her that "working on assignment" was not the career for her; so she did what any self-respecting Vegas girl would do: she became a showgirl by night... and a closet novelist by day. A decade later she also became an instant bestseller with the back-to-back releases in her dark urban fantasy series, The Scent of Shadows and The Taste of Night. She'll appear in November's Holidays Are Hell anthology, and The Touch of Twilight: The Third Sign of the Zodiac will follow in June 2008.
Author biography courtesy of Eon.
Some fun and fascinating excerpts from our interview with Pettersson:
"I used to be a Las Vegas showgirl. In fact, dancing in the Folies Bergere at night was what enabled me to write during the day. It gave me the time and space to learn and grow, and at the end of the day I could pack away the laptop and go hang with my friends in the lights and sequins and feathers. It was a great way to spend my 20s, and the perfect compliment to the sedentary writer's lifestyle. So that's my real advice to aspiring authors: expose yourself nightly to thousands of strangers! It worked for me!"
"I was born and raised in Las Vegas, which I've found is even more interesting to people than my having been a showgirl. (No, I did not live in a hotel growing up!) It was a drastically different scene back then, and rather boring because there wasn't a whole lot for kids to do. Before the Mirage was built in 1989 it was pretty much a small town with a big, bright bulge in the middle, like a snake that'd swallowed a light bulb. Like other locals, I can still reach down past the glitter and the fast pace, and trace the remnants of that small town like the lines on my palm. It's still there, if you know where to look."
"Being a mother has made me a better writer. My baby has made me faster and bolder and smarter, and taught me I can do things I might never have attempted before. An odd fact of motherhood is that you'll do things for your child that you'd never do -- or ask for -- for yourself. Isn't that strange? So I was determined from the get-go that I wasn't going to blame my child for my own professional failures. Whatever I do or don't accomplish lies squarely on my shoulders. So there are sacrifices I have to make right now -- getting up at 4:30 in the morning is one of them -- but that's nothing compared to the rewards, and I know this time is fleeting. So I'm careful not to squander it. Being a mother is a wonderful asset!"
"I've recently begun getting into Mid-Mod Century culture and design. I've suddenly become conscious of all the small affinities I have for the '50s and '60s: I love Hepburn-esque dresses, cocktail culture, and I've always romanticized the Rat Pack days (I used to say that I was a showgirl 20 years past my time). I'd really like to buy one of the older Mid-Mod homes, with their sharp angles and clean lines and cinderblock patterns and butterfly roofs, but the areas these homes are in (in Las Vegas) need to be revitalized a bit before I jump on board with that."
"I used to daydream that Elvis was really my father. (Yes, such are the dreams of a child raised in Vegas!) But he was performing in town around the time I was born and my mother was totally cute -- and I can do the lip thing, 'Thank you very much' -- so I thought it entirely feasible!"
What was the book that most influenced your life or your career as a writer?
It had to be Diana Gabaldon's Outlander. I was already writing historical fiction, but I'd never read anything with such density and depth that was still so accessible. I was sucked into her world, intrigued by her imagination, stunned by the prose, and the characters lived on in my mind long after I closed the book. Discovering that book also led me to the online forum where she has long been a section leader, and my interaction with the writers and the critique group there helped my writing immeasurably. Diana remains to this day an unwitting mentor of mine.
What are your ten favorite books, and what makes them special to you?
What are some of your favorite films, and what makes them unforgettable to you?
As in my reading, I'm really all over the place. French Kiss is my ultimate chick-flick movie. Every girl has to have one, right? My all-time favorite action movie is The Matrix; I remember walking out of the theater totally blown away by the freshness of the concept, and I'm certain it had a subliminal effect on my writing. Billy Elliot and Anne of Green Gables are my coming-of-age favorites. The Usual Suspects and The Sixth Sense had twists that totally took me by surprise; I love to be completely fooled. I also loved Serenity because it brought back the characters from one of my favorite-ever television series', Firefly, which was witty and intelligent and fun, and ended far too soon. Finally, Mystic River brought to life one of Lehane's books, and I think Sean Penn gave the performance of a lifetime in that. Utterly wrenching.
What types of music do you like? Is there any particular kind you like to listen to when you're writing?
I have to have total silence when I write (though I'm starting to get over that now that I have a toddler). That said, I played Evanescence's "Fallen" through much of The Scent of Shadows because I'd listened to it so many times I'd actually stopped hearing it. The songs on that album remind me of Joanna and Olivia (the sisters in my story) to this day.
The Taste of Night had just one song mentally ascribed to it and that was Green Day's "Boulevard of Broken Dreams." It was perfect for that story.
When I'm working out or driving I'll listen to hard rock -- Nine Inch Nails and Nickleback are my favorites -- though, again, I can't listen to this while working. Alone I'll listen to Ani DiFranco, Natalie Merchant, Aimee Mann, Norah Jones, Joss Stone, and Feist. I'm also into the retro cocktail culture, so I love to put on Michael Bublé and pretend I'm at the old Sands Hotel in Vegas having a steak dinner with Sinatra. Finally, my husband prefers classical music, so when we're together we'll compromise with Amici, Josh Groban, and Bocelli.
Only recently have I discovered the song that fits my series as a whole, and I wish I'd known about it when I had my book signings this spring because readers were asking at the time what song perfectly epitomized my work. That song is "Butterflies and Hurricanes" by Muse, and it makes me visualize Jo's story as a miniseries. I can't listen to it enough.
If you had a book club, what would it be reading?
I'd definitely want to introduce them to Sosnowski's Vamped because I think a lot of people who enjoy urban fantasy would love it. A lot of the fiction I'm seeing within the genre is very insular right now, and it's wonderful to see what can be done if an author really stretches. For that reason we'd also read Charles De Lint, a true forerunner in urban fantasy, and a man who writes some of the most lyrical, touching material in the genre.
What are your favorite kinds of books to give -- and get -- as gifts?
I love to give and receive gift cards. There's nothing better than wandering and roaming and daydreaming my way through the aisles of a bookstore, and a gift card gives me carte blanche to indulge in impulse buys. It's like going on a treasure hunt. I know it sounds odd, but I'll buy things with gift cards that I normally wouldn't purchase with cash, and I never feel guilty for doing so (which is rare for me -- I'm a terrible consumer and I always suffer from buyer's remorse). I also give subscriptions for birthdays and holidays because that person will be reminded of me each month when that periodical shows up in the mailbox.
Do you have any special writing rituals? For example, what do you have on your desk when you're writing?
Time is at a premium now that I'm a mother, so these days my ritual consists of getting up at 4:30 in the morning. It's my only guaranteed uninterrupted writing time prior to the household waking up (I love it because New York isn't even awake yet!). I'll hit the coffee pot and then dive into the work. If my husband doesn't have to rush straight into work, he'll take care of the morning parenting duties, and I'll continue to write. I'll "break for baby" then dive back into the work at nap time. It's rare that I work again at night, though I do have that option. Most often, however, I'll hang with the family, watch a movie, or read a book when the baby goes to bed...something to fill the well so I'm fresh for the next day's work.
What are you working on now?
It is called The Touch of Twilight, and it's the third book in my Signs of the Zodiac series. It continues with Joanna Archer, who has accepted her role as the Archer, part of the supernatural Zodiac force dedicated to protecting the inhabitants of Las Vegas in the war between Light and Shadow.
In The Touch of Twilight, I introduce a new player into the battle, one whom both sides fear. As Joanna spars with the deadly and enigmatic doppelganger, she fears that that the third sign of the Zodiac is really the awakening of her Shadow side. The Light is fading, and to save her friends Joanna must not only cut all ties to her past, but actually embrace the darkness and abandon this world.
Many writers are hardly "overnight success" stories. How long did it take for you to get where you are today? Any rejection-slip horror stories or inspirational anecdotes?
I once read that it takes the average writer a decade before realizing their dream of being published. Scoffing at that in the way that only a 20-something could, I decided it'd take me half that time, at most. From that moment on we can go ahead and fast-forward that decade, because it took me exactly ten years to accomplish that goal. There are completed but unsold manuscripts under my bed. There are unfinished stories, false starts, and multiple drafts of circuitous and messy prose.
But by far the hardest thing I had to do in that ten-year period was allow my first book to die. It was a historical, it was my first love, it was the book that I dreamed of seeing on shelves, and the one that taught me how to write. I was so stubborn about not letting it go that I almost allowed it to kill my love of writing. By the time I realized what was happening, I'd been working on it for so long that there was an immense amount of weight to each word I put on the page. I'm not sure any art can survive that sort of pressure. I know my own creativity couldn't.
So, sobbing, I put it away, and with it went my excuses and my patience for some flighty, nonexistent muse. Yet I kept the lessons I learned about writing, coupled them with the determination to never again start a story I wouldn't finish, and the promise to myself that I'd finish it before it died on the vine. Failing at that story in particular was probably the best thing that ever happened to me.
My new goal, then, was to write a book filled with all the things I loved: a mystery's noir, a strong romantic subplot, an accessible first-person voice, and the fantasy I'd loved before college lit had knocked it all out of my head and life. It was the most fun I'd ever had writing, and The Scent of Shadows came out of it. Praise be, because I got knocked up at the exact same time, and my showgirl career was officially over.
If you could choose one new writer to be "discovered," who would it be?
I was fortunate to read an Advance Reader's Copy of Melissa Marr's Wicked Lovely, an upper young adult urban fantasy that blew me away. It's a modern, edgy faerie tale and the first in a series. I'd recommend it to readers of all ages.
What tips or advice do you have for writers still looking to be discovered?
What I'd like pre-published authors to know is this: It doesn't get any harder than this. The work you're doing right now is laying the foundation for your preparedness when New York does come a-calling. It's the experience you'll have behind you that'll enable you to say ‘Yes' to opportunities that come your way. So keep doing your level best everyday because while you're pushing and forcing the words onto the page, the work is actually pushing and forcing you into a different place as a writer. Doing it changes you. So work on your craft, continue learning, apply yourself and move forward daily, and read good books. In time, your skills will improve, your voice will gel, your discipline will strengthen, and your writing will be as much a part of your lifestyle as brushing your teeth.
Also, don't have the blinders so firmly fixed in place that you're unwilling to change directions or let go of a story that's no longer indicative of who you are as a person, or that may be keep you from growing as a writer. You only become a better writer by writing. Not rewriting. Not talking about writing. Not thinking about it. So make sure you're in love with the work and not just the thought of the work. And then do it.
Equal parts Light and Shadow, Joanna Archer must fulfill a destiny she never wanted. Once a photographer and heiress to a casino fortune, she is now dedicated to the cause of good . . . but susceptible to the seductions of evil.
A deadly virus is descending on Las Vegas—a terrifying plague unleashed by the powerful overlord of Zodiac's dark side: Joanna's father. Chaos and panic grip Sin City as agents of Light fall prey to the terrifying epidemic. Death reigns supreme—and Joanna stands at dead center of an epic and terrible war long foretold, the last hope of a damned world.
But first she must somehow conquer the malevolence that grows all around her . . . and within.
Loading...Chapter One
It's funny how a name can change the world's perception of you. Your perception of yourself. My mother used to stroke my cheek with her fingertips, calling me her Jo-baby—my earliest identity; a child both loved and cherished—though obviously that was before she abandoned me. And while the man I'd once thought was my father just called me Joanna, the way he said it was telling as well, all the syllables crisply clipped and pronounced, like he was biting them off between his teeth before spitting them out. Like being Joanna, like being me, was a bad thing. And then there was the love of my life. He'd called me Jo-Jo, and that was the name I missed most of all.
Because for the past six months everyone had called me by my sister's name, and it was the one I used on myself now, fluffing my blond hair as I stood in a makeshift dressing room in one of Las Vegas's most opulent resorts, the Valhalla Hotel and Casino.
"Olivia Archer," I muttered as I straightened my Chanel pencil skirt, my feet screaming in heels as high as flagpoles. "What the hell were you thinking?"
Of course, she couldn't answer. The real Olivia was six months dead, and while I still mourned her every day and every minute, even if she'd been here I doubt her answer would've made sense to me. I mean, how did one even come up with the idea of selling women to raise money for charity? Much less entering herself in the bidding?
I'd been asking myself this ever since I received the phone call from City of Light Charities two months earlier, asking if the bachelorette auction was still on in spite of "recent events."I'd then scrambled to make sure it was, as Olivia would've done. Because that was one thing I needed to do.
Be Olivia Archer. Or be dead.
And so I stood, staring in the mirror at skin that was supposed to be mine, buffed, fluffed, and shellacked to aesthetic perfection, about to auction myself off to the highest bidder.
"Livvy-girl!" The screech—another of my new names—could be heard above the emcee's cheery voice as yet another debutante was sold out front. "Olivia! No, no! Get away!"
I whirled, images of honed blades and demon faces assailing me, but there was only Cher, Olivia's best friend—now mine—waving frantically as she danced from foot to foot. She breathed a theatrical sigh as I picked up my Dior handbag and clicked over to her in my medieval torture devices. Yanking me to her side, she whispered harshly, "That's the suicide mirror, remember? Leave that for the other hags . . . er, contestants."
She batted her thickened lashes when I glared at her. I needed this event to be a success. Which meant cheering on all the other hags. Er, contestants.
"It's true," added Madeleine Cross airily, mistaking my annoyance for disbelief. I recognized her from her photo in Vegas's equivalent of Page Six, and it turned out she was just as vain and self-absorbed as reported. She flipped back a lock of recently streaked auburn hair and ran her finger across a perfectly waxed brow. "Two socialites, sharing that mirror, were brought down by bad press after last year's event."
"Social homicide," Cher said, and both women shuddered.
I wanted to say, But it was for a good cause, and only just managed to keep my mouth shut and face straight. "Oh. Well . . . thanks. For saving me, I mean."
"'Course, darlin'! We're BFFs!" Cher gave my shoulders a squeeze before her gaze strayed over my shoulder and she gasped. "Oh my God! Don't look!"
We turned, and a squeaky sound from Cher whipped us back around. Madeleine leaned forward to peer at the offending contestant through the critical lens of our mirror.
"She's using M·A·C lipstick in . . ." She squinted before drawing back, chin lifted. "Vegas Volt. At least two coats. The whore."
I leaned over and joined her in study of the woman now perched obliviously in front of the suicide mirror. She was dressed in high-class hooker wear and dripping diamonds, just like the rest of us. "I think she looks good."
"Olivia!" Cher looked at me like I'd just told her I wore press-on nails. "Priscilla Chambers is her own object of desire!"
"Truly," said Madeleine, applying more mascara as she rolled her eyes, nearly stabbing herself in the eyeball. "Watch, she'll bid on herself."
Olivia had lined up the bachelorettes months before—thank God—and clearly I was missing out on some social nuances. So under the guise of polite inquisitiveness, I probed for more information. "Well, what about her? In blue?"
Cher and Madeleine jostled for mirror time, but neither glanced in the direction of the woman about to take to the stage. "Lena Carradine. Puh-lease."
Madeleine executed another perfect eye roll. "Queen of the facelift tribe."
"See where her brows are tattooed? Those used to be her cheeks."
Tough crowd.
"Ladies?" Oh, thank God, I knew that voice. We all turned to find a reporter standing so close she'd easily copped every word. She smiled. "Could I get a couple quotes for the Las Vegas Sentinel?"
Cher and Madeleine launched into a litany of clichés about charity, peace on earth, and the quest for a good man, and the reporter pretended to jot it all down, an expression of carefully vacuous cheerfulness on her honeyed face. Meanwhile I studied Vanessa Valen; naturally bronzed, exotic as a hot-house orchid, and a woman who had the art of camouflage down to a science. Though I'd seen her do it a hundred times now, it was still mystifying how easily she disappeared in a crowd. She was beautiful, but more than that, she had a rock-solid presence and a will to match. She also had a steel fan with viciously curved claws resting somewhere beneath her tidy reporter's guise, and was my only real ally at this whole bubble-brained affair. It was all I could do not to latch on to her leg and hang there.
Taste of Night, The. Copyright © by Vicki Pettersson. Reprinted by permission of HarperCollins Publishers, Inc. All rights reserved. Available now wherever books are sold.
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