Shaper
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Nameless and without an identity, she wakes on the streets of Shapertown, an abandoned city that defies the laws of physics. She’s fleeing a threat she can’t remember. One woman holds the key to unlocking her memories and the dangerous truth: She is the threat.
Christine Danse
Christine Danse writes science fiction, fantasy, and paranormal romance. She lives in Salem, OR, with her writing partner.
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Shaper - Christine Danse
A NineStar Press Publication
www.ninestarpress.com
Shaper
Copyright 2017 Christine Danse
Cover Art by Natasha Snow ©Copyright 2017
Edited by Amanda Jean
Published in 2017 by NineStar Press, New Mexico, USA.
This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher, NineStar Press, LLC.
Warning
This book contains sexual content, which is only suitable for mature readers.
Shaper
The Mi’hani War
Christine Danse
Table of Contents
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
About the Author
Dedication
For Chelsea, with love.
Chapter One
I ran.
The buildings on either side of me rose in strange shapes, defying gravity and every other law of physics. Here, a narrow base of mortared river rock gave way to five floors of glass windows. There, a tall shanty structure of mother-of-pearl sagged like a house of cards, but it wouldn’t fall. It would never fall, not until the government came with its agents and its wrecking balls to dismantle the structures and the commands that had been pressed into them by the people who’d built the city, who could shape the world with their thoughts and tell an edifice to stay.
Shapertown. I recognized the impossible structures, even if I had no idea how I’d come to be here. I’d burst into the present moment running, shoes thudding on the empty street. A terrifying reality to wake into, sprinting full-out down the street of abandoned Shapertown with no knowledge of who chased me, just the need to run.
Hungry vines crowded upward, casting the street in permanent twilight. I caught glances of sunlight dazzling off glass walls above, but otherwise the street was an uninterrupted shadowscape.
I hadn’t seen another person in the several minutes I’d been aware. Just an empty road, stretching on.
I glanced back, almost tripped, and caught myself against the wall of a building, fingers closing around a fistful of woody vine. Blood pounded too hard in my temples. My leg muscles burned. I must have been running for a while, longer than I’d been aware. I tried to remember where I’d come from. What door I’d walked through, what destination I’d set out for. Home? Work? School? Nothing came to mind.
Nothing, except a strong echo, the memory of having been here before, fleeing down this street. It came so strong I looked up in alarm, heart slamming, but I was still alone.
Run.
I lurched forward but couldn’t spur myself into more than a stumbling jog. I recalled my own footfalls and men’s voices raised in shouts.
Shapertown. I knew this place and its history, though I couldn’t recall my own. It’d been one of Mi’hani’s original cities. Now only the buildings remained, emptied by superstition, silent survivors of the long-ago witch hunt.
Not every building in Shapertown had been touched by a shaper’s command. Some had been built the traditional way, using engineering and ingenuity, and were subject to the effects of time. You could find one if you stepped down the wrong side street: a hollow-eyed edifice with stained walls crumbling around the edges, all the more disturbing tucked between its pristine neighbors.
I dodged down a narrow alleyway, past the garbage some creature had heaped into a nest, and found a place where the buckling face of a building had compressed the front doorway into a hole just big enough for a small animal—or one desperate girl. I squatted down and pushed my shoulders through, plugging up the little bit of light that came in. I ignored the detritus of wood chips, grit, and gods-knew-what under my hands and pulled my torso through. The jagged edges of the hole dragged against my skin like teeth.
I was in up to my hips when the structure groaned and shuddered. The jaws of splintered wood gripped me tighter, an old sleeping beast that stirred. In a moment it would wake and crush me.
I froze. Somewhere above, the structure whined. With