Playing Catch Up! Eternal by Cynthia Leitich Smith

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Eternal (Tantalize #2) by Cynthia Leitich Smith

Genre: Young Adult (Paranormal Romance)
Date Published: February 10, 2009
Publisher: Candlewick Press

With diabolical wit, the author of TANATALIZE revisits a deliciously dark world where vampires vie with angels — and girls just want to have fangs.

At last, Miranda is the life of the party: all she had to do was die. Elevated and adopted by none other than the reigning King of the Mantle of Dracul, Miranda goes from high-school theater wannabe to glamorous royal fiend overnight. Meanwhile, her reckless and adoring guardian angel, Zachary, demoted to human guise as the princess’s personal assistant, has his work cut out for him trying to save his girl’s soul and plan the Master’s fast-approaching Death Day gala. In alternating points of view, Miranda and Zachary navigate a cut-throat eternal aristocracy as they play out a dangerous and darkly hilarious love story for the ages..

Eternal is the second book in the Tantalize series by Cynthia Leitich Smith. The focus shifts from Quincie to Miranda and Zachary in this book. Zachary is Miranda's guardian angel, and he's in love with her, but she doesn't know he exists. Literally. We get both of their points of view which really helped round out their story. I liked being able to get into both Miranda and Zachary's heads to really know what they were thinking, how they felt, and everything in between. Once Miranda gets turned into a vampire, she seems to completely embrace it even if she's not that sure of herself yet. She doesn't seem to miss her humanity. Zachary is determined to save her, but as the blurb said, he's been demoted. So, that makes things tricky. There was a lot of transitioning of Miranda's character, because when we first meet her, she's human. Then she's turned, and we see a different Miranda, or at least a different side to her, and she keeps on transitioning and/growing as the story progresses. The story was fast paced and engaging. These characters, "The King" included, interested me more than the characters of the first book. I liked their story better than Quincie's so far too. I'm not sure where it's all heading just yet, but it's definitely been entertaining.

I MAY BE HEAVEN-SENT, but I'm not perfect. I watch my girl slip the oversize Dallas Cowboys T-shirt over her pink bikini panties and turn in for the night. That sounds perverted, I know. But I've always watched her dress, undress, shower, and bathe. Then there was that one blessed weekend last August when the air conditioner broke. She spent a full day in bed buck naked, reading Tolkien under the ceiling fan. It's not like I look look. Not usually. What's more, it's my job to keep an eye on her 24/7. I'm Miranda's guardian angel (GA for short). A newbie created after the first atomic blast in 1945. Miranda is my second assignment and my reason for being. Not that she has clue one. She can't even see me. Nobody can unless I choose to show myself. That's a no-no. We GAs have our limits. Sure, we help out when we can, but not in any way that's clearly detectable . . . or at least traceable (I'm known to push the limits now and then). Night after night, I watch her sleep. She's restless. Always restless. I'm forever rearranging the sheets so her legs don't get tangled. Otherwise, she'll wake up. She doesn't get enough rest as it is. She worries about little mistakes. Or what she frets are mistakes. What other people think of her. What will happen next. All humans do. I wish they could glimpse infinity. It would make glitches like a C in algebra or a nitpicking parent or being ignored by The Guy feel a whole lot less fatal. I would love to talk to Miranda. To tell her that. She woke up crying twice last year around the time of her parents' divorce. I don't know what she dreams about. I've heard that older angels can tap into the mind. Sounds tempting, right? But I wouldn't do that. Or at least I can't. I'm already so here. Miranda deserves her own mental space. This is her physical space, though. My fave place on terra firma. Since she's sound asleep, I risk assuming solid form on a denim beanbag chair, taking it in. Four cream-colored walls, two windows, eight-foot ceilings, outdated gold shag. A twin bed, desk set, tall cedar dresser, and hope chest. The blanket her grandma knitted. The stuffed toy penguin from SeaWorld. The poster of the earth that reads: HOME, SWEET HOME. Here, I can see the little girl she was. The woman she's turning into. Miranda began wearing bras like the one hanging off the back of her desk chair in fifth grade. She gave up on the third of her fuzzy pink diaries that same year. One wall is covered by a bookcase. She reads paperbacks mostly. Lots of series titles. One shelf is jammed full of acting and theater books. The library stack on the desk waits to be returned. The college information packet beside it is from the University of North Texas. The cell phone next to her PC hasn't worked since it went through the wash last weekend. Beside it rest copies of A Tale of Two Cities and Romeo and Juliet. Dickens is assigned reading, but Shakespeare is Miranda's ticket to her dream. Today's date is circled in red on the Narnia calendar. Spring-play auditions are this afternoon. My girl is so shy. I'm surprised she signed up. Mr. Nesbit is taking a drink of water from the bottle attached to his cage. He's good company, for a gerbil. I dissolve again so I don't have to wiggle up from the beanbag. It's time to check on Miranda. To breathe in her lemongrass body wash. To study her heart-shaped face. It's something I do almost as often as humans blink. This time is different. Horrific. I recoil, looking for another explanation. But the ladybug nightlight is still on. The nearly full moon hasn't been eclipsed. A smoky gray film swirls around Miranda. It clings to her. It twists into long-fingered hands, caressing her cheeks, pawing at her slim neck and shoulders. It lengthens into a translucent sheet, covering her body, sliding up over her head. It's wrong. It has to be. But I've seen it before. My girl is sleeping in the shadow of Death.

Check out my reviews of other books in this series!

Cynthia Leitich Smith is the New York Times best-selling author of the award-winning Feral series and Tantalize series. These adventure-fantasies were published by Candlewick Press in the U.S., Walker Books in the U.K. and Australia/New Zealand, and additional publishers around the globe.

Cynthia also is the author of several award-winning children’s books, including: Jingle Dancer, Rain Is Not My Indian Name; and Indian Shoes, all published by HarperCollins.

She serves on the faculty of the Vermont College of Fine Arts MFA program in Writing for Children and Young Adults and on the advisory board of We Need Diverse Books.

To learn more about Cynthia Leitich Smith and her books, visit her website & blog.You can also find her on Goodreads, Facebook, Instagram, and Twitter.