Read the first chapter of A SH*TLOAD OF CRAZY POWERS, the fourth Teagan Frost adventure. Enjoy!
I should have learned kung-fu.
I’m a secret agent working for the US government. I should be able to knock someone the fuck out, right?
The thing is, people underestimate me. I’m short, not super fit, and I look like I couldn’t punch my way out of a wet paper takeout bag. How great would it be to knock someone on their ass with a wild Shaolin axe kick, or whatever they call it? Plus, it would be a tremendous backup for when my psychokinesis (read: my ability to move shit with my mind) goes on the fritz.
Hell, I probably could have gotten Tanner—the terrifying intelligence operative who happens to be my boss—to pay for it.
It definitely would have been useful at this particular moment. Do you know where I fucking am? I am stumbling around in the woods beneath Griffith Observatory, just north of Hollywood. It’s muddy, it’s cold, it’s 5 A.M and pitch dark. I just survived an enormous car crash, and I have no idea where I’m going. Oh, and men with guns and helicopters are chasing me.
I can’t actually use my psychokinesis—PK, as I call it—on them, because I’ve used a ton of it tonight already, and I can only use so much before it has to recharge. I have no choice but to run, because if I fight back, I’ll get destroyed. And to make matters worse, my underwear has chosen this moment to ride up right into the crack of my ass.
Torchlight and angry shouts split the woods behind me as I stumble across the uneven ground. I’m not in deep forest or anything. It’s a regular California scrubland, with lengths of hardpacked dirt interrupted by boulders and hillocks and sparse groves of birch and eucalyptus. There was a huge storm in Los Angeles last night, so the ground isn’t hardpack anymore. It’s mud—not deep, but sticky as hell, caking my sneakers and pants.
Uphill. That’s all I have to do right now. Just keep heading uphill. Uphill is the opposite direction from the road, from the scene of the crash. I have no idea whether it will help me actually lose the people chasing me or not, but it’s the closest thing to a goal I’ve got.
A wave of torchlight flickers to my right, and I actually flinch away from it. That turns out to not be a good idea, because I’m still moving forward, and promptly lose my balance. With a yelp, I throw my hands out in front of me, grabbing hold of a nearby tree trunk. I spin around, going to one knee in the mud.
“Piece of fuck,” I snarl, forcing myself upright. This would be a lot easier if I didn’t have a bum knee. I actually hurt it before the crash, and it’s currently wrapped in miles of strapping, tight underneath my jeans. It’s functional—just—but it hurts like hell. My head feels as if it’s trailing three feet behind my body, like it’s filled with helium and attached to a string.
Rotor blades roar. A heavy duty searchlight beam splits the trees, sweeping past no more than six feet away. The blowback from the chopper gusts through the branches, loose leaves flying into my face. I wait, dead-still, until the searchlight moves away from me, then keep going.
The next patch of ground is so steep that I have to use my hands to clamber up it. My lungs burn with the effort, white hot acid spreading through my torso, searing a wicked stitch in my side. I come over the top of the rise, descending into a small gully. As I do, I get a glimpse of the Observatory through the trees. A blinding white, domed palace on the hill, lit from below by spotlights. If I can just get there, I can…
Do what? How is getting to the Observatory going to help me? If I want to stay hidden, then it’s not a great idea to run towards the bright white object at the top of the hill. Problem is, I don’t have another solution. I don’t have a single clue about where else to go, so I aim myself in the direction of the Observatory, and run like hell.
The stitch eats into my side. Branches whip at my face, scratching at my skin. I’m breathing too fast, and somehow, still not getting enough air into my lungs. The deeper I go, the thicker the mud gets. It goes from foot deep to ankle deep, cold and liquid, flooding my shoes. I’m shivering with shock, and a healthy dose of exhaustion. But I have to keep moving. I don’t have any other choice. I cannot let myself get taken.
No sooner does the thought occur than my foot plunges into a shin-deep, mud filled hole. I go down, and I go down hard.
I land on my side, left arm bent awkwardly underneath me, the impact sending up a horrible bark of pain. I cry out, eyes squeezed shut, agonised, frustrated tears leaking out. There’s mud everywhere now, on my face, up my nose, in my ears. I roll over, a single thought blaring like a fire alarm in my mind. Get up get up get up.
I don’t get the chance. There are thundering footsteps, and then a knee in my back. White torchlight blinds me. A hand on my head, forcing me into the mud. The panic and anger in my mind are like rabid dogs, snarling and foaming.
My PK is running on empty, but I can still sense objects in space. I can feel my captor’s weapon, his torch, the zippers on his jacket. Frantically, I use my PK to grab hold of them, desperately trying to eke out a little more. I have to stop him from taking me. I can’t let that happen.
No dice. I am out of juice.
“Got her!” my captor yells. “She’s down!”
The pressure comes off the back of my head. He clamps his hands around my wrists, wrenching them behind me so hard that he almost dislocates both of my shoulders. The cuffs go on with a self-satisfied click, biting deep into my skin.
The man on top of me spits, huffs an exhausted breath. “Teagan Frost, you are under arrest. You have the right—“ he breaks off, coughs, tries again. “You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law.”
As the cop reads me my rights, the LAPD helicopter swoops low overhead, the sound of the rotor blades all but obliterating his voice. Not that it matters. Rights or not, I am truly and properly fucked.
And you know what the worst part of all this is?
None of it would have happened if my brother and sister hadn’t come back from the dead.
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PRAISE FOR THE FROST FILES SERIES
“THE GIRL WHO COULD MOVE SH*T WITH HER MIND IS A FINE SF COMEDY” The Guardian
“FORD’S DEBUT HOLDS NOTHING BACK, DELIVERING A SENSE OF ABSURD FUN AND HIGH-SPEED THRILLS THAT MORE THAN LIVES UP TO THAT AMAZING TITLE.” Barnes & Noble Sci-Fi and Fantasy Blog
"TEAGAN IS A FRANK AND FUNNY NARRATOR FOR THIS WILD RIDE . . . A FAST-PACED, HIGH-ADRENALINE TALE THAT MANAGES TO GET INTO SOME DARK THEMES WITHOUT LOSING ITS SENSE OF FUN." Kirkus
“FORD’S STRENGTHS ARE EVIDENT IN THE TAUT ACTION SEQUENCES AND SUSPENSEFUL PACING, WHICH TIE THE BOOK’S CENTRAL MYSTERY TOGETHER.” Publishers Weekly
“FORD'S BREAKNECK PACE KEEPS THE TENSION HIGH, AND THE THRILLS COMING THE WHOLE WAY THROUGH. EVERY DECISION OR MISTAKE FEELS INCREDIBLY IMPACTFUL AS TEAGAN AND HER TEAM AVOID THE COPS WHILE SEARCHING FOR THE ANSWERS THEY DESPERATELY NEED. TEAGAN'S JOKES, INTERNAL MONOLOGUE AND POP CULTURE REFERENCES ARE SURE TO PLEASE THOSE LOOKING FOR AN ADVENTURE WITH A DIGESTIBLE AMOUNT OF SCI-FI THROWN IN.” Bookpage
“THE GIRL WHO COULD MOVE SH*T WITH HER MIND IS A BOOK I RECOMMEND WITHOUT A HINT OF HESITATION.” Irresponsible Reader
“FORD DELIVERS A FANTASTIC FOLLOW-UP TO THE GIRL WHO COULD MOVE SH*T WITH HER MIND...THE NARRATIVE MAINTAINS A CASUAL, COMIC TONE EVEN IN ITS MOST STRESSFUL MOMENTS. READERS WHO ENJOYED TEAGAN’S FIRST BRUSH WITH DISASTER WILL BE THRILLED TO SEE HER PUSHED BEYOND HER LIMITS IN THIS WINNING SEQUEL.” Publishers Weekly