Genre: YA Urban Fantasy
Word count: 60,000
Sixteen-year-old Kitty is a Chinese weredragon and an operative for the US government’s Draconic Intelligence Command, or as she likes to call it, DIC.
When a rookie under Kitty’s supervision breaks the number one rule (don’t let humans know what you are) her entire race is exposed to the public, causing a worldwide panic and media frenzy. The CIA imprisons the dragons, including Kitty’s parents, at DIC’s underground headquarters. To protect them. Or protect the public. Or something.
A failed attempt at thwarting the President’s son’s kidnapping is the only reason Kitty and her partner, Sani, aren’t imprisoned with the rest of the dragons. Sani’s been shot and Kitty’s been cut off from everyone she trusts when the Commander In Chief himself has the balls to ask Kitty to launch a secret rescue mission – even though he claims he can’t do anything to help her parents.
Kitty soon discovers that no one’s loyalties lie where they should – or at least where she wants them to. When she discovers the truth behind the kidnapping, she must choose between obedience to her country and allegiance to dragonkind. One of these will set the dragons free; she just has to figure out which one.
DRAGONS ARE PEOPLE, TOO is a 60,000-word Young Adult Urban Fantasy with a touch of romance. In addition to tweeting @sarah_nicolas, I’m one half of “Thursday” on the YA Rebels (www.youtube.com/yarebels) and I blog at YAtopia (yatopia.blogspot.com). I’m a member of SCBWI and run a local organization for writers called Orlando Literati.
Thank you for your time and consideration.
Well, crap. Mission Intelligence got it wrong. Again.
I mean, seriously? Heat sensors? When your operatives have a core body temperature of 142 degrees, that should be the first thing you check for. Deep breaths, Kitty. I daydream about ripping Simon a new one as I scale up the three stories of crumbling stone.
So now I cling to the east wall of the Lebanese embassy in DC with a diplomatic document pouch hanging from my belt.
I’m overly conscious of the two security cameras aimed at my back, despite the full-body black catsuit with matching ski-mask that
Draconic Intelligence Command (or, as I like to call it, DIC) requires me to wear. Sirens blare, telling me security already knows we’re here, but I still can’t let them see my face. And, more importantly, I can’t let them see me change.
Beside me, Wallace scrabbles, then loses his balance and falls twenty feet to the ground, hitting the wall at least twice in the process. Rookie. His breath comes fast, but he’s uninjured. He could probably fall from three times that height without a scratch.
“Kitty.” Even his whisper has a British accent. He lies sprawled on the immaculate walled lawn of the Embassy and slowly makes his way to his feet. “I can’t make it without changing.”
“No!” I yell, then catch myself and lower my voice to something more like a hiss. “Absolutely not. Do you have any idea how many cameras are on you right now?”