The Promised Scene

Something happened yesterday with the end of my post. I had the scene all prettied up for you and somehow it did a magic act and disappeared on me! So Abracadabra, I twich my nose and POOF!
Scene set up: Bill Gannon in car with a minor-minor character, Cooper. This is the fourth book, so just sit back and read it for what it is. The backpack belongs to Sabrina who has lost it in a scuffle with vampires in Garden of the Gods, Colorado.

Bill tossed him the backpack. Cooper caught it.

“Let's get in and find the vampire's lair on the GPS.”

Both men slid into the front seat of Bill's white SUV. Bill turned the engine over and brought up the in-dash monitor.

“Give me the address of the vampire who lives in the area,” Bill asked.

“Twenty-one eleven, Rampart Range,” Cooper said.

Bill looked at him. “You're sure? You don't have to consult a note pad or something?”

“Nope. I've got a steel trap for a memory. Go ahead and put it in. You'll see.

Bill punched in the address. It took only a moment before the site map came up. The roads that lead out of this area of The Springs curved and wound and had dozens of switchbacks.

“Mountain roads,” Bill muttered as he magnified the area. He put it into the satellite mode to see the terrain. “Definitely mountain road.”

“This road goes for miles through mountains,” Cooper said as he unzipped the backpack. “It meanders through Pike National Forest. I think it might eventually go to Denver.”

“Not interested in that. But if that's the correct address, his house is right there, on this curve of road.” He tapped the screen with a fingernail. “A lot of switchbacks . . .” Bill trailed off.

Cooper, meanwhile, had unzipped the backpack and discovered Sabrina's purse. He pulled it out, using the driver's side light to investigate the bag further.

“Hey, you'd better leave that stuff alone.” Bill grabbed Sabrina's purse from the lid of the console.

“Wow.” Cooper's word came on a chuckle. “Your intended bride is into weaponry, I see.” He pulled out a dagger in a fancy black leather sheath.

“What are you doing? I told you to leave that alone.”

“Just curious,” Cooper said.

The dagger wiggled out of its sheath on its own accord, drawing both men's undivided attention as it hovered momentarily in mid air. Then, it darted forward and jammed into Cooper's chest between the fourth and fifth ribs.

Cooper's scream startled Bill more than anything. A memory quickly surfaced. It was something taught to Bill at a very early age. He had thought that the story of The Dagger of Delphi was a myth, told to scare young apprentices in the Nephilistic League of Young Men.

Automatically Bill exited the car, and shut the door, and for an extra precaution, he hit the remote lock. Slipping his hand into his pocket, he pulled out his cell phone. With a thumb he went to his #10 contact, and hit SEND.

It rang several times, and it went to voice mail—which was what he was told it would do—while Bill passively watched the scene inside his white Escalade. Now the interior was no longer pristine white, but blood spattered. The window was smeared with a bloody hand print. Cooper twisted in the seat, trying, to no avail, to pull the dagger from his chest, and illicit Bill's help.

Bill knew better. To help Cooper now would mean his own death. The Dagger of Delphi would seek all which it deemed its enemies—which were all the Nephilistic race, as well as vampires and demons. Nope, he'd remain here, thank you.

When he got the tone he spoke his message: “Cooper has been killed by the Dagger of Delphi. Repeat: Dagger of Delphi exists! I've left the vehicle in the parking lot of The Garden of the God's Trading Post, in Colorado Springs. You'll have to send in non-Nephilistics to do clean up.” He looked at his Rolex watch. His father was in Madrid Spain. This message would get to him automatically. But those who were part of the HAZMAT team would be sent here post haste.

Cooper had become quiet. He was dead, now. Bill was certain of it. Stupid son of a bitch! “It's eight-forty two o'clock, mountain time,” he went on with his message. “I'm calculating that it will be several hours before his body has turned to dust. You'll want to have the car towed away before its discovered . . . it's rather a mess inside, and I know you don't want anyone to see it. Especially the police.”

Bill hit END, and strode away. For him to chance being seen now was quite dangerous. Especially since the Albino was known to be in these parts. The Undead couldn't resist a soul from a Nephilic being. He scrolled to his car rental number. Always open. He wondered how fast they could get him an SUV, as he headed down the road, toward town.

~*~

Breathe Wednesday

Mountain view in Colorado

A beautiful photograph I came across this morning while trying to come up with a cabin mountain retreat for my vampires in fourth book. This one sort of took my breath away. I can almost feel the cool, (low humidity) crisp mountain air on my skin, breath in the pine scent, my eyes able to scan for miles.

I was only successful in finding homes that looked like homes built here in the Midwest--blachk! Unless I went to resorts or lodgings in the Rocky Mnts. I found something built in the middle of national forest, but it was ugly. And they wanted well over one million for it. I wouldn't pay them a dime. I did like the deck and the view (which is one of them above).

Grilling Deck

I could totally get into this deck. I love the view!

I was doing morning dishes when dialogue went through my head for when Sabrina, Rick (you'll meet Rick in second novel), and Tremayne arrive at this cabin. I like the idea that these are vampires who live here. Obviously they would have to hide in the lower portion of this cabin during the day.

This is from the fourth book, so don't worry if you can't figure out where I am. Justs enjoy the moment. Breath. (oh, and one werewolf hunk is introduced here)

SCENE:
"Seize the night, old man!" Lonny greeted us heartily. "Come in, come in. Welcome to Phantom Lodge--as we jokingly refer to it."

"Carpe noctem," Tremayne repeated the greeting in Latin for some reason. "I hope we're not too late. It took a while to find the place. Your road was absolutely terrible."

"Mountain roads usually are, especially a logging road. It keeps the tourists at bay. Except for those pesky four-wheeling idiots. But at any rate, we were just about to go below for the day."

"Below? Sounds like a ship, instead of a lodge," I said low.

Lonny's eyes slid to me.

Tremayne quickly remembered his manners. "Lonny, I'd like you to meet Sabrina. And this is Rick. This is Lonny Pennyweather, our host who will put us up for a few days."

Rick and I said hi to him. I kept my eyes down. Even though I was wearing the mystic ring,
I was following proper vampire etiquette.

"Yours? Indeed, Bjorn, you've always had a discerning eye for the female."

"She's not a  . . . donor." I caught Tremayne's adjusting his word for a woman donor. I knew he would have said blood doll. I detested that slang phrase.

Truly? You never mentioned this. However, I suppose we can share mine."

I rolled my eyes at the conversation, and then took in the rest of the cabin. I loved the stone fireplace, and the knotty pine (or was it cedar?), walls. The furnishings were more like that of a quaint lodge with Native American touches here and there. I fell in love with it right t away and truly wished there were no vampires here to interrupt my enjoyment of it.

"I'm sure you understand," Tremayne continued. "She's off limits." I had to admire that he wanted this to be clear. No one would sink a fang into me while we stayed here. If they did, the Dagger of Delphi might find a home in their heart. It was twitching at my side the moment we got here. I'd be more than happy to introduce them to it. Lonny's eyes darted from me back to Tremayne's. I could see the disappointment there. Oh well. 

"Well, Bjorn, you certainly travel light," Lonny said, still smiling.

"You should see my suit case," I quipped. Rick snickered beside me.

That was when a new person entered the room from a stairway. Dark, wavy hair that fell to his shoulders, blue eyes the color of mountain columbine. His worn jeans fit him like second skin, and the T-shirt he wore over what I could tell was a muscular build had a mountain scenery with an eagle on it. My senses told me he was full Were. Our eyes locked. I felt a tumbling in my heart.

"Ah, Chris. Come and meet our visitors," Lonny said.

Chris came forward and didn't shake Tremayne's hand--which was correct vampire etiquette. But he offered his hand to both myself and Rick. His hands were calloused, I noticed as he merely folded it around min and didn't pump. He did the same with Rick, seeing that he had no arms, and so was being extra careful.

"How do you do?" he said in a nice, slightly hoarse voice that made my heart tumble a bit more.


Grrrr! Okay, that's as far as I got. You like?

ALso, I see I have a new follower. Again, I cannnot see who my followers are, but welcome any way. Make yourself known if you wish, or you may retain your anonymity.

Speaking of which, I've reached the equal # of followers as my age--before my birthday at the end of this month. Wondering if I'll hit #58? Hmmm. But that isn't until the 28th. We'll see if I can do something special for that. Hopefully by then I'll have a release date on the second book. I'm still getting people asking me for it. Which is a good thing. They come out of the woodwork. Loving that part!

What have you all been up to? Have any good moments creating a scene or dialogue? Let me know. Love to hear from you guys.

Have a great Wednesday!