Dear Secret Agent;
Sixteen-year-old Emma’s ability to heal makes her indispensable to the man who murdered her. The Collector has kept Emma's soul, along with many others, as a trophy for years-- until her glass bottle shatters and she escapes.
Emma is now a free, albeit hunted, ghost. But any existence is better than the torture of waiting to be used as a band-aid to a sociopath. Until she meets Ryan. He’s very much alive, making Emma’s lack of a body torturous. But, when Emma realizes the full extent of her healing ability, a real life becomes possible. She can’t justify her freedom when the Collector still holds countless other souls captive, including the girl who helped her escape. So, Emma decides to risk her freedom, and possibly Ryan’s life and soul to rescue the rest of the souls still trapped in the Collector's morbid collection.
THE COLLECTED is a YA paranormal novel and is complete at 81,000 words. The full manuscript is available upon request. Thank you for taking the time to consider representing me. I look forward to hearing from you.
Sincerely,
****
250 word revision:
Through the glass of Emma’s bottle, the tiny basement room appeared curved and distorted. The door crashed open and the Collector limped over the threshold. He dragged his left leg behind him, smearing blood across the floor with his foot. Emma’s heart sank. He needed her talent again.
The Collector staggered toward her. Glass bottles of various shapes and sizes occupied the shelves of the curio cabinet where she waited. Spotlights illuminated the carefully placed bottles, casting colorful shadows. Emma prayed he'd pass her by, but it was a wasted prayer. She knew what he needed, and none of the others could give it. His eyes scanned over them all, but stopped on her.
His fingers trembled as he grasped Emma’s bottle and loosened the lid. He left the cap on until he brought it to his lips, and in one fluid motion he removed the lid and inhaled, drawing Emma into his body.
A wave of his pain smacked into her and she gasped. She could feel the heat from his left leg as it throbbed with each beat of his heart. He squeezed his eyes closed, blocking Emma’s vision of the small room. When he opened them again the room tilted and he plopped down on the only chair.
'Fix it' Emma heard his thoughts as if he were speaking out loud. 'And no funny business. If I have to force you this time, I’ll make you remember George for me. Do you want that?'
