So, anyway, the world doesn’t make sense. By day, I’m a student who avoids teachers, parents, and rules because all they do is shout. I wish they’d leave me alone and stop calling me a lad when sometimes I’m a lass. Oh, plus, I can’t remember where I lived last year. By the way, have you noticed the handsome boy who keeps chatting with me after school?
There’s more. By night, I’m a spy on a mission, strong and essential, see? Some call it dreaming, but I know better. My assignment is to track two people who are trapped inside a skyscraper. I’m scared, and so are they. What if I’m not brave enough to save them?
So, yeah, things are tricky in both worlds. Two realities and a lot of questions are about to collide, and when they do, nothing can prevent the truth from spilling out. What’s inside the heart of a skyscraper? I’m about to find the answer. See you on the other side.
Excerpt
Mission Skyscraper
Eule Grey © 2025
All Rights Reserved
Chapter One
The daydreams of Culleen/Colleen Farcy.
Thief.
Spy.
Lone warrior.
Teenage mutant thief.
My skills are unique, like scaling a wall and hearing bombs before they activate. I’ve evolved from nothing to a top-class thief, the kind you see on TV: stealthy, faster than the wind.
The best time for stealing art is late at night when the world sleeps beneath the cloak of darkness. Whoever snatched the art doesn’t yet realise someone slips through the cracks of the armour, breaking open their codes, taking back what villains stole, reclaiming paintings and sculptures, and returning them to their rightful place—Me.
Once home, the worlds and people frozen inside the pictures and sculptures can return to life, thaw, and then they’re home with their books and possessions, free to get on with everyday stuff like eating toast, making clay models, and watching TV in the middle of the night.
My powers are not superhuman but crafted from stubbornness, persistence, and a Lycra catsuit.
Unfortunately, the world is unaware a crime has taken place, a thing of beauty seized. If the police knew of my mission, they’d look at me with pity and say, “Off home now, lad,” as if I were a boy when I’m not, as if my assignment didn’t matter.
Only the people trapped understand the importance of my mission. Their echoing cries are killing me. Hearing a voice so lost is the saddest thing in the world.
I work alone. It must be so. I’m a cowgirl of the night, a shepherd of shadows.
But wait… My ear buzzes with someone trapped, trying to get out. There’s no way to silence the voices except to listen. You can’t ignore thunder. Whether you hide beneath the bed or not, the skies will rip apart anyway.
The buzz turns into a ringing, and now I’ve got numb hands. It pisses me off. There’s no need to attack my fingers. I try to ignore the voices by covering my ears. It should work.
It doesn’t.
The voices get everywhere, make my home itchy, and the food taste of sand. I can’t get away because they come from inside and not outside. Everywhere I go, they follow.
I want to get away. I hate them. “I don’t want to help you. Go away. Ask someone else. I’m only a kid, unsure whether I’m a boy or a girl.”
The buzzing becomes the voices. They won’t leave now until the mission is over.
It will be full of danger and risk. I expect to be undercover for a long time, maybe a year or ten years. Time is funny when you’re an art thief. I may not survive.
My ears hurt from the intensity of the buzz and the harshness of the light. This job is going to be bad.
Fear won’t stop me. I’m afraid, though, numb with worry.
Numb. You can’t hear the end of the word, the letter ‘b’. It throbs until the end of time. It’s a trapped memory dying to be freed, a swinging rope caught between motion and force. At what point does the ‘b’ cease ringing, and the rope stops swinging to and fro?
To and fro.
Forwards and back.
This time, there are two voices, far away echoes. Round and round, they spin, losing the words and the sense until all that’s left is the raw plea.
‘Hear us.’
It’s not a question.
They’re inside me now. I can no longer walk away or ignore them. I tried for a whole year.
It’s time to act—
—To put on the unique clothes made from the best quality, intended for any terrain. Dressing has become a ritual to switch from ordinary kid to teenage mutant thief.
Jeans, black as Drac, clinging tight against my legs. During a mission last year, laser beams exploded less than a millimetre away. It’s why I don’t wear surplus material that could set off alarms.
I shimmy in quickly and then wriggle into the gloves. I don’t want to leave fingerprints.
Last, my trainers, made especially for this occasion, the most crucial task yet, made of reinforced bounce that will help me run. And if I should need to climb, sucker pads along the bottom and sides will assist.
In these clothes, I could easily run away from home, and they’d never find me. Could I save the world? Maybe.
The voices squat inside my pores and my heart. Their burden is heavy. My ears and throat hurt. An invisible force pushes me forwards and backwards, but what is it?
Ignorance is bliss. I’ve heard it somewhere, but I don’t think it’s true.
“Goodbye,” I say, fading away into the night, whoosh, as stealthy as a ninja.
Purchase Link
NineStar Press: https://ninestarpress.com/product/mission-skyscraper/
Books2Read: https://books2read.com/mission-skyscraper
Meet the Author
Eule Grey has settled, for now, in the north UK. She’s worked in education, justice, youth work, and even tried her hand at butter-spreading in a sandwich factory. Sadly, she wasn’t much good at any of them!
She writes novels, novellas, poetry, and a messy combination of all three. Nothing about Eule is tidy but she rocks a boogie on a Saturday night!
For now, Eule is she/her or they/them. Eule has not yet arrived at a pronoun that feels right.
Author Links:
Website: https://eule-grey.square.site/
Facebook: http://facebook.com/eule.grey/
Twitter: http://twitter.com/EuleGrey
Add to Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/238711936-mission-skyscraper
Giveaway
One lucky winner will receive a $50.00 NineStar Press Gift Code!
0 Comments