TWV #3: LIV ON FIRE

Title: LIV ON FIRE
Genre: YA mystery
Word count: 82,000

Query:

After her twin brother dies in a fire, eighteen-year-old Liv Ashwin doesn’t know who she is anymore. She tries out three personalities: girlfriend of a punk rocker, Queen Bee of her high school, and nature enthusiast and paramedic trainee. Pulled in so many directions, she doesn’t have time to think of the pain of losing her brother — until the serial killer “Agni’s Fire” starts burning through her hometown.

The media goes crazy over the elaborate killings, each staged in homage to the Hindu god Agni. When Liv discovers a girl tied to a burning stake in the woods, she fails to save her and runs before the inferno consumes her, too. Agni’s Fire broadcasts her failure online, like all his other killings, but this time with a message: Be my Svaha?

Liv wants to hide and pretend the sick proposal never happened until another video surfaces — one of her brother’s death. Seeing it ignites a maddening need for her to find Agni’s Fire, no matter the consequences. When she gets too close, her best friend is kidnapped and a new message from Agni’s appears: Be mine and it will stop.

Liv’s done running. She won’t let another person die or her brother’s killer go free, even if it means swapping places with her friend in a final sacrifice.

First page:

“If you have to wear a disguise, it’s obviously a bad idea,” Bridget says so loud I pull my phone away. It’s a good thing she’s not actually here or I’d be getting that look from her too.

“It’s not a disguise,” I say. “It’s an outfit.”

“This. Is. Not. Healthy.” Bridge bites each word, like they’re one of her rock-hard protein bars. Seriously, if I wanted to deal with this shit, I would’ve answered the phone when Mom-Bot called.

“If you’re so against the way I am, why are you my friend?” I readjust my rearview mirror to apply my wine-red lip stain before my flip-flops get replaced by silver-studded boots.

“Just think about it,” Bridge says. “You’re out of control. Don’t go to the creepy dive bar, just don’t. And that guy? Totally beneath you, Olivia.”

“Liv,” I correct her and hang up. Before I can put it away, my eyes catch on my home screen pic. Every time it comes to life, it’s on a new photo from my gallery. Usually it’s Bridge and me, Jude (lots of Jude), or the band Burners.

Not now.

Now Evan’s smiling at me with the sun over his shoulder, making him glow.

“Evan,” I whisper, but it comes out all wrong. I haven’t said his name aloud in so long. No one says it anymore. My eyes sting, so I blink hard. I don’t want to ruin my makeup — I don’t want to feel like this. I have to do something — now — or else I’ll die. I will. I swear.