06 February 2009

Just a Taste

I've seen other writers do this, and I find it very appealing. I'm going to share a scene from my novel-in-progress. This is where Avanti finds out what her gentle consort really is:

He had a name, this dark stranger, stereotypically dazzling for a foreign male. I needed to know it. I needed to know who he was in order to take him out. I had to. The voices of my ancestors sang in my blood, excruciatingly haunting and beautiful all at once. I knew those voices, even though they were as solidly heard as mist is seen. It was a transparent frequency and nothing more having something to do with the magic present in my veins.

“Remiel,” he replied, his tongue skipping over the syllables like harmony. Like sweet jazz to my brain. My head ached, and then I knew it was all him.


I shook my head. No, not this one, this sweet bulk of a man, broad of shoulder and slightly graying at the temples. He had me in thrall dammit, and it had to come off. I had to get away from him without him suspecting that I was who I was, and that I knew also what he was.

“Remiel,” I said, “Powerful name for an archaeologist.”

“Mother loved her angels,” he said with a gentle, close-lipped smile.

“How old are you then?” I asked and his smile broke into a small grin.

“Old enough to not tell the truth.”

I pressed my lips together, trying to hide that disapproving look I knew I was developing. His eyes followed my every movement, but his body stayed casual and comfortable; slack. I felt like I was already-tagged game.

The predator lies in wait for the unsuspecting young gazelle to let her guard down for one precious second.


I pretended to feel my phone give a silent alert and checked it, even though there wasn't a message waiting for me.

“I'm sorry Remiel. Looks like my best friend just got dumped by her fuckwit boyfriend.”

“You have to go?” He asked, his dark eyebrows climbing skywards. Time froze and for a minute, the charade was dropped to expose the real creature underneath this lovable, older professional. He was young, like me. Not quite yet thirty. Brown hair, so dark it may as well be black. Piercing hazel eyes: green, with a generous splash of caramel. His face was free of creases, and there was no gray at his temples. He was definitely a vampire, and a damn powerful one if he hid his real self from me.

I tempered my reaction to this sudden reveal. “She's going to need wine and vent time. We'll do this again soon.”

“What about your family?” He asked as he stood politely for me to take my leave.

I paused in my panicked flight, crestfallen. He was the only link to them.

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