A Sample from Book Three - keeping up the susupense in scene

 Hello everyone, how is your Saturday going? Mine is going well. The sun is out bright and it is still way above normal temperatures.

Yesterday I spoke about milking a scene, and suspense can really come at any moment in your book. It can even come during a moment where one character is persuing another for their affections. There need not be that  much danger in the scene. But the consequences might be something to consider for your MC.

Thus, since I'm working on Beyond the Black Veil, and came across such a scene, I thought I would share it. Here Sabrina is cornered by a delicious guy (naturally). His name is Drachen, and he's a young vampire, and she can't dare let him bite her. She realizes too late that her gloves are on, and even though his powers are not very strong, he is hard to resist.

Let's see how this scene plays out. Watch how I've used the 4 basic principals in this scene: ACTION, THOUGHTS,DIALOGUE, DESCRIPTION.

I stared at him for a moment, utterly astounded by the story. Finally coming out of my daze, wondering fitfully if Drachen hadn't somehow mesmerized me—which was silly, but then I realized my gloves were still on from dinner. My ring would be of no use to me covered in the company of a vampire. I realized he was trying to thrall me.

I blinked, glanced away from his eyes. My actions seemed to break his spell. “That is as wild a story as I've ever heard. But believable,” I said. “Thank you for clearing that up.”

He leaned in a little closer, the fingers of his other hand came up to graze my face, and I ducked away from it and in one smooth move I stood behind him. He spun around, slightly amazed that I'd moved so quickly—me too—but the chase seemed to delight him because he smiled wide, the rim of white teeth just peeking below his luscious lips.

“Thing is, I can't read a vampire,” I said, trying to change the subject.

“Neither can I,” he admitted. “No matter what. I could never read father's mind.”

“So, you are telepathic?” I guessed.

“Yes,” he said, one brow arched as his eyes glittered from the hurricane lanterns stationed on a sideboard nearby. “But you knew that.”

“I guessed.”

“I know what you want, Sabrina.”

Oh crapola.

He advanced on me. It somehow didn't surprise me that all Drakulya males seemed to be very aggressive and sexually assertive. I knew if I wanted to, I'd be in bed with Drachen in two minutes flat, but I saw in a flash that he would bite me. I couldn't let him do that. Besides, with the creature wanting to come out of me, I might... hurt him. I didn't want to hurt Drachen. He seemed so thin and frail, unlike his huskier cousin/nephew, Jett. I knew that I would most likely bite back and already I felt the claws forming at the tips of my fingers, ripping holes through the fingertips of the gloves I wore. I felt slightly panicked. The last time this happened with a vampire in my room, I had attacked him. But then, it was Lief—and he'd deserved it.

The thought of Jett touching me earlier sizzled through me. Eyes slipping shut, a sudden exhalation escaped me with the very longing for Jett taking me on that couch, earlier. The episode whirled in my head, making me crazy, until I backed into a solid object—the door to Ali's bedroom—snapping my eyes wide to find Drachen in front of me again, hands clutching the door's frame on either side of my shoulders. Fantastic.

Drachen, who was four or five inches taller than me, caged me with his arms, which didn't at all feel frail. Intent on thralling me completely, his head ducked low to bring his lips closer to mine, I turned my head to avoid his lips, but that turned out to be a stupid move, because now his delicious lips were on my neck. Remaining absolutely still, I swallowed, feeling my heart thrum through my veins, and I was certain his sensitive lips detected that wonderful beat just there at the opening of his mouth. His tongue slithered out and wetly teased my skin there. A thrill went through me, and, yes, my lower regions came to attention.

“What I wouldn't give to taste you, Sabrina,” he said low, his breath feathering along my neck. I glanced up at him as his head moved back slightly. Lips parted somewhat dramatically and I watched with morbid fascination the fangs actually grow, and inch down from his jaw. Drachen was less human than he'd pretended. His secret was revealed. Oh, crap.

“So, you're more vampire than the others even know,” I accused, feeling as though my heart was about to hammer its way out of my chest. I had not allowed myself to get into such a situation in a while, and these confrontations with vampires scared the crap out of me.

The Dagger of Delphi was eager to do a job it was meant to do, as it nearly slapped the side of my thigh, and I became aware that I might now have a bruise for the beating it was giving me. I had to hold it down against my thigh, wondering fitfully, how everyone would react to Drachen's being a vampire with a dagger stuck in his chest. My dagger.

“Mmm, keep it a secret? Just between me and you?” His face moved in again.

I thrust my hands against his flat chest, and saw that the claws had bitten through the material of my gloves. Oops. Drachen looked down to see what had become of my gloved fingertips.

“As Joha might say: This is an interesting development.” His smile grew, and those fangs turned what would have been a melting smile into something more sinister.

“Looks like the wolf is wanting to come out tonight.” I tapped my claws on his chest, feeling the collar bone thump as I did.

“Looks like it,” he said, eyes shifting up to engage my gaze. “You're not quite everything you've been telling us. Werewolf?”

“Not fully,” I said. “And you might as well quit trying to pretend you're not at least ninety percent vampire.”

He smirked, then chuckled low. “How would you like to become my consort?”

I pushed him a little more, showing him my strength. “No, Drachen.”

“My room. Come and check it for Dreadfuls?” he suggested, thick brows wiggled.

“Nice try. There are no more Dreadfuls in this house,” I said, reading the leering look on his face. Vampire males were very possessive. Once a vampire had marked you, you were his, no matter who said different. Since I was already marked by Vasyl, Drachen was the last vampire I would let sink his teeth into me, in this, or any other world.

“I'm turning in,” I said on a yawn as I moved my hand behind my back and opened Ali's door, then eased backward into the room. “Good night Drachen.”

Unable to hold his serious mien, he broke out into a husky chuckle. “You're sure you wouldn't like to join me in mine?” he asked, not moving from the doorway.

“No,” I said slowly shutting the door on him.

“Good night, Sabrina,” he said. “Sweet dreams.”

“G'night,” I said as I closed the door. Turning around, I plunged inside the darker room.

“Sabrina?” A soft knock on my door made me twirl. I opened it a few inches and peeked out. A flaming candelabra held in his hand made me blink and pull back a little. Shadows produced by the candlelight shifted and jumped across his face giving it more allure than before.

“Oh!” My gaze shifted from his face in amber candlelight to the candelabra.

“You may need this. It's pretty dark in there.”

“Right.” I noted that the candelabra was made of gold. How good of Drakulya to make sure no silver would come into contact with anyone who may be a vampire—or a werewolf.

“Thanks,” I said as I took it from him.

“You are most welcome.”

His eyes were like a molten gold in this light. “I'm just down from you, remember. If you need anything.” Then he caught himself. “But you knew that.”

I smiled and closed the door, I felt less than comforted; I couldn't find a key in the key hole to lock it. Strange as that was, I wasn't too upset about it. I placed the candelabra on the mantle and found the fire was down to coals. Finding the wood pile, I moved the screen away from the fireplace and fed the coals more of the quartered logs. In a moment the fire licked at the dry split wood and flames danced along the wood. After replacing the screen, I warmed my hands while kneeling before it. My eyes went to the tips of my claws which had ripped through the ends of my gloves. Rolling my eyes, I pulled them off. It would seem that I was stuck in this in-between stage of my were-creature. I would not go any further, apparently. I wondered if tonight was the full moon, rather than last night, when I'd thought it was.

Not certain what to do, as if I could do anything about it—I took in my surroundings.

© 2012 Lorelei Bell

BLINK IF YOU WANT ME

I see lots of things on the NIU campus. Sometimes not things I really want to see, but the shirt this guy had on caught my attention and I had to use it for my post title. Caught your attention, didn't it? So did this smiling kitty.

So, I've been out visiting with you new people out there, I sometimes leave comments, if I feel the need. I don't have a lot of time to work on my book--and when it comes this hot and fast, I really don't have much time to even post, but I try. I was not able to participate in the 200 word challenge for the Campaign; I can't be hemmed in like that, for one thing. But mainly I'm heading into the climax of this fourth book, and I'd really like to get it finished in a week or so.

Many of you who I have visited are just starting out writers. I do know what it feels like to tread unknown waters. It's been a while, but I've been there.

Here's a point in fact. So, I'm writing along and last night I had to look up GPS systems for what I'm having one character do. Which is good, I Googled it and got some good information so that I don't sound like a complete dork in the writing. I also had to have a wrench fall into the engine compartment, but not fall all the way through to the floor, and had a friend of mine give me a wonderful line, which I told him I'd use, just switch the words around.

Tonight I'm working on this WIP. It takes place in Colorado Springs area. In fact I'm at Garden of the Gods, got the satellite up on that location in Google Earth--God I love that! But it's night and since I don't know when they would close in November, I'm hesitant in working on the scene where they gain access to where they want to go.

So, what do I do? Scratch my head all night? Heck no!

I skip that part. Nothing worse than allowing your writing guru, Muse, or whatever you wish to call it to suddenly go belly up. Better to skip something and get to the part you want to get to.

I've got a new notebook where I've been jotting all sorts of things down for the up-coming scenes. In fact this morning I was writing in my (paper) journal, and had the dialogue and scene for this chapter.
Bill will find Sabrina's purse, which is inside the backpack. My thought was to get Bill and Cooper back to the motel. But this morning I decide against that notion. Because of what is to happen next I need this to happen right away, and in the car.
The Dagger of Delphi is inside the backpack. Cooper, being a bit too curious for his own good takes a peek inside. Dagger of Delphi kills demons, and Nephilim, and all of their agents. Cooper is a lower class of Nephilim. Bill is the upper class. Since Cooper opens the bag up, the dagger goes after Cooper. Cooper is dying while Bill is driving. Bill realizes what has just happened. He didn't know that the dagger still existed--or that Sabrina had possession of it.
He pulls over to the side of the road. (Cooper is going through death throes, gagging and sputtering, and getting blood all over Bills white interior--he knows that blood won't come out of leather very easily.) Calls his father.
"She has possession of the Dagger of Delphi."
"How do you know?"
"It just stabbed Cooper."
"Cooper! Is he there with you?"
"Yes," Bill replied calmly. "I just picked him up from the airport, as requested. I was following Sabrina to a local sight here and only found her backpack. Unfortunately--well probably fortunate for me--Cooper got too curious and opened it up."
Cooper slumps over.
"It stabbed him?"
"Yes. I think he's dead."
"Get away from it! Now!"
"How? I'm driving!"
"Pull over, get out of the car and leave. Once it has killed, it will go after the next closest enemy."
"What about the body?"
"Lock the doors, make sure all the windows are up. Eventually the decay will leave the remains in a pile of ashes."

Well, this is what I've got so far.

How's your WIP going? Do you get stalled when you get to a point and don't know how to proceed? Try writing the next scene, or some dialogue. It loosens things up and gets you moving again.

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!

WORDSMITHING 101 : Damn You, Conflict!

Again, I wasn't able to comment at another blogger's post because of some glitch. T.C. Mckee, I would have had something to say at your blog about your conflict post. And the fact that you were reading until the ungodly hours of the morning. Oh, to be the writer who has held your attention that long. Would we give blood for this? Gold? I wonder.

The question posted was "Is there enough conflict in my WIP?"

How do we, as the writer, know? Unless you have some people who can read your WIP and give you honest feedback, you really don't know. So, how do you know?

This is from my story checklist the main two questions you ask as you do your read through:
1). Were the characters plunged into rising conflicts? - Did the action lag or conflicts become static or jumping?

I also always ask myself  "are the conflicts believable?"AND "have I built up to them enough?"

Jealousy is a good one to work with. It is universal. Everyone knows how it feels. And it doesn't have to be about jealousy over another woman or man. It could be over a pet, a car--anything that the other person is paying a lot of attention to.

Conflict isn't just two people not getting along, or they hate each other for whatever reason. You can have two people who like one another, but disagree at some point about some pivotal thing that is important. Two brothers argue over money, a woman, land, who is going to mind the store, politics etc. But it has to be something important to the story.

What is the main problem in the story? What carries the story along? Is there a mystery to be solved? Who is in the way of that problem or mystery being solved? Could something else also get in the way of the hero/heroine solving the problem or mystery? This is where the conflicts come from.

Also, if the characters aren't likable the conflict doesn't have enough grist to pull the reader along. Who will care what happens to them? I remember not being able to get through the book, A Lovely Bones. I found myself distracted by the writing, and I really didn't care enough about the characters to find out who murdered the girl. To this day I don't have any idea who murdered her, nor do I even care.

So, the next thing you ask is :

2). Are all the conflicts resolved?

If you have a few conflicts that aren't resolved, that's okay, there's always book #2 to resolve them, or attempt to, and bring in new ones!

You might resolve a lover's triangle with a death of one of the players. Jealousy can create all sorts of interesting plots and sub-plots. But having a jealous husband or wife simply kill off the offending other person is sort of crapping out. You gotta make it interesting make it fresh; wow me!

You also want to ask: Does your climax have impact? Was there a surprise? Was the emotional impact powerful enough that the reader either cries, or feels some emotional response that has her wanting more? Does someone die, someone who is likable, someone who the heroine has had a relationship with?

Another question to ask: Have you avoided working up a conflict for some reason where maybe you should have? It might be that you have two characters getting along and you don't want them to be in conflict, but maybe the conflict will work in favor of the plot.

And finally: does each scene have a conflict? What is the objective of the scene and who holds it as though they own it? Is someone holding back the truth? Do they know something that is important to the story and if they told it would ruin the ending? Dialogue is a huge key. It pulls the reader along. Leave somethings unsaid. Have someone lie. Have someone hold a grudge, and it comes out later. Have someone secretly plotting to do ill toward your hero.

All important questions to think on.

Here is an example from something been working on my own WIP, just today. This is an example of one scene in one chapter that I've been working on which has some sort of small conflict. It hampers Sabrina's need to do what she came here to do.

Set up: Sabrina is on another world, where vampires rule, but humans are treated well enough. However there are some creatures called "Dreadfuls" who cause people to become sick and die. No one can kill these things. . . until Sabrina came along. The people she is speaking to are all humans. She's at a ball. She is trying to find her cousin Lindee, and take her home.

~*~
Ali floated in. "It's true! I saw her kill one in my room!"

Suddenly I was surrounded by excited faces. Gasps circulated around the crowd of on-lookers.

"How did you do it?" a woman in a pink taffeta gown surged toward me and I had to lean back a little because she was in my space.

"She has a dagger. Don't you?" Ali said.

"Well, yes--"

"But anyone who has ever tried to kill one with any weapon has never been able to kill it!" a man argued heatedly.

"It must be a special dagger," the woman in the ruffled pink taffeta dress, who was still standing in front of me said. She held her champagne in a gloved hand, in an awkward way--this was how everyone held their glass, around the rim--and took a slug. Her face was flushed. I thought that she'd had enough o f the bubbly.

"I--"

"Magical! That's what it is!" Ali exclaimed.

"Well, then, she must help rid us of these things!" a woman in blue said. I noticed the ruffles of her off-the-shoulder dress had beads threaded throughout. Her fan hung from one wrist, and a matching velvet bag hung from the other. "You know that Dedra has two at her place!"

"Two!" came the other woman's gasp, eyes wide.

Wonderful. I'd never have a chance to find Lindee, and then leave for my world if I was busy placating these people.
Now, get to work!

Words & Dialogue

Tillie eyed Dorian. They stared at one another for a long moment. Zofia wasn't sure if they were putting hexes on one another, or just trying to win a staring match.

Just when Zofia thought she should intervene, Tillie spoke up. "I, on the other hand, have in my possession two Grimoires." He snowy eyebrows dancing high. To have even one Grimoire in one's possession on Euphoria was against The Code of Ethics, thus both Zofia and Dorian were both staring at her dumbfoundedly.

"You do?" Dorian broke the stunned silence. There was a dark, conspiratorial glint in his eyes to go with his crooked grin. "I would never have guessed you, of all people, to possess such a thing." His sarcasm wasn't lost on Zofia.

"Where on Ugwump World would you come across two Grimoires, Aunt Tillie?" Zofia asked, astonished.

"Ive my sources," she said airily.

"Oh Ebay?"

The look of superiority deflated on Tillie's face. "Yes," she hissed lightly.


The above is from my book Spell of the Black Unicornn.

I had fun with my characters in this book. Dorian is Zofia's husband--who was once a wizard, now he's a vampire and wants to be turned back to his former self.

Tillie is a wizened sorceress--obviously she has resources at her disposal.

What do you notice about the conversation above? How do the three interact with one another? Who seems to have control of the situation? Dorian has a droll sense of humor, but he certainly knows how to insult his wife's aunt. It's almost a relationship one might see between a mother-in-law and son-in-law. But that's really what this is, since Zofia's parents both perished when she was young, and Tillie raised her.

Now, let's see how things turn around in this scene:

"I don't suppose you could look through them to find some sort of counter curse, or spell, could you?" Dorian asked.

Knobby finger tapping her chin, she hummed in thought. "I might."

"Please, Ottillie? I'd be forever in your gratitude."

Tillie smiled with a sinister gleam in her eyes. "A Grandier showing me gratitude--and pleading! I'll be a troll's fanny! I think I like that. I like it a lot. But you'll owe me, Grandier . . . and much more than mere words of gratitude, I'm thinking. After all, besides Zofia with the Stone, I'm the only one on First World who can perform any complex spell which might return your soul, and change you back into a wizard again."

"I-I can't use the Stone to--" Zofia started, but Dorian interrupted.

"Anything, Ottillie. Name it. If it's within my powers, I promise I'll grant it," he said.

"Seal of Katowice?" Tillie held up her left hand, palm out to him, index and middle fingers crossed as were the third and pinkie in the sacred pledge.
Dorian held up his hand in the same way. "Seal of Katowice."

Clapping her hands, Tillie jumped up and down excitedly, her braids became white ropes with life of their own."So mot it be!" She stopped jumping. "Tonight I'll look through my Grimoires." She pointed at Dorian with her crooked finger. "Mark my words, Dorian, you'll not regret this . . . neither will I." And then she left them.


excerpts from Spell of the Black Unicorn copyright by Lorelei Bell

Spring Cleaning for the Writer's Mind

I'd always enjoyed outdoor work, however this yard is so large, and the three catalpa trees really leave quite a mess on the ground. The hard-shelled beans that are over a foot and a half long, scatter all over. But I go at the whole thing with the idea that while I'm doing this mindless, muscle-challenging job, I can let my mind wander (unlike in my other job).

I've introduced a character in my second vampire novel named Bill. Sabrina, my heroine, has had her life turned upside down in the last book, what with working for vampires using her clairvoyant talents to find a murderer, only to have him ascend as a vampire, then come after her. She's had two master vampires and one regular vampire make romantic overtures toward her. One nearly kills her because of her “overly sweet” blood. She's dating a shape-shifter named Dante, but he is scion to one of the master vampires and when he realizes that things are moving along in ways that he can't compete with, he bows out—not exactly what Sabrina wanted, but they break up.

Sabrina is clearly upset, she has her cry, but needs to go shopping. She doesn't actually care what she looks like, but once she gets to the store she realizes she's scaring the customers and before the manager throws her out, she decides to at least put on some concealer and brush out her hair.

Now at least she can shop without driving people away from her because she no longer looks like someone gave her the keys to her padded cell, she grabs two pints of ice cream, a frozen pizza or two, and before she forgets, she grabs some milk and has to go and buy some cereal—her shifter ate her out of house and home, so she needs to have something in the morning (and not the usual diet of eggs, bacon, or ham etc. that had caused her to gain five pounds already!)

Bill has been asking her out, and she has refused because she was at the time dating Dante (and he was a dog for a while, and before that he'd been a mouse spying on the vampires who may have been behind all the murder and mayhem of the first book). Bill is grandson of the little old lady next door, Mrs. Bench, who also happens to be a witch and medium. She opened up a portal and allowed a magical ring to come through to be placed (magically) on Sabrina's finger. Sabrina is the one and only sibyl, and as the supernatural world is finding this out, she's the object of desire—the prophecy claims she must be mated to a master vampire. However, Bill, who is not a vampire, wants to claim her because he is actually the descendant of nephilim—who were the bi-product of fallen angels and human women mating.

When Sabrina tries to grab a box of cereal—of course on the very top shelf—and can't reach it, who is there but Bill.

Scanning the shelves filled with a million choices of cereals, trying to find one that wouldn't give me gas, yet sounded like something I'd actually enjoy with cold milk in the morning, I opted for a flake kind, instead of the granola kind. I was down to a blueberry crunch thing that boasted it could make me lose five pounds in two weeks—yeah, if that's all I ate—when I simply had to switch hands because the one holding the ice cream was nearly numb. Wish I could numb my emotions like my hand.

I set the milk down on the floor, and had to shift everything frozen into my left hand. Even with gloves on, the cold seeped through and began to numb my fingers. Spying the box of cereal I wanted on the very top shelf, I went up on tip-toes and stretched my right hand. Fingertips just touching the box, I tried to knock it closer to my grasp.

That's when another hand snagged it easily.
Startled, I gasped as I turned to the owner of the large, male hand. I stared into cool blue eyes and as recognition hit me, I found myself unable to utter anything intelligent for a full twenty seconds while he brought the box down, placed it into his cart, and then took the frozen things out of my hand and put them, and the milk in a corner of his cart as well.

“You do know that this store offers carts and baskets for the shopper's use for free, don't you?”

“B-Bill?” I said, my mouth trying to work again. It were as though I'd been holding the ice cream and pizza in my mouth instead. It took me a second or two to get his joke, and I found myself smiling. “Yeah, I-I, um, I didn't think about getting one.” Lame, Sabrina. Lame.

He stood there staring back at me. “By the way, you're welcome.”

“Oh,” I looked down and saw all my things were in his cart. He had a rotisserie chicken, some frozen vegetables a container of salt, bag of sugar and flour and some chocolate chip morsels. I was still suffering from a brain malfunction. “Uh, thanks.”

“Are you alright?” Will be after I snarf down the Chunky Monkey.

“Sure. I'm fine.”

“You sure?”

“Yes.” Didn't I seem sure? Maybe it was my hair, and unflattering jeans.
I caught his eyes gleaming, unblinking at me. He seemed to steal my breath away. He looked the antitheses to me; hair laying perfectly, shaven face, pants were pressed, and his sweater was brown, fading to ecru at the bottom. I thought I picked up that Mrs. Bench had knitted it for him.

“Are you ready to check out?” he asked, moving his cart around me because I hadn't moved. It were as though my feet were stuck in cement as I watched him push his cart around me and avoided a head-on with a lady on her cell phone.

“Uh, yeah.” I dodged the woman on her cell phone talking to her husband—he wanted some cereal, but he couldn't remember what kind—God, get a life!

I caught up with Bill heading for the checkout lane. He turned to me and made a gesture as he paused the cart before wedging it between the candy and magazine racks that funneled shoppers through the checkout.

“Lady's first,” he said.

“Oh, thanks,” I said and shuffled in front of the cart and began extracting my things out of his cart onto the conveyor belt. If I weren't so cleverly steeling gazes at his pecs underneath the sweater, and the bulge in his pants, I might not have dropped the Ben & Jerry's only to roll away from me. Face hot, I wasn't quick enough to dip and cage it before the woman who was slipping the cashier a check suddenly dipped down and picked it up.

“Oh, I love this stuff. I can eat a whole pint in one sitting,” she gasped, holding it out to me.

“Thanks,” I said as I took the almost mushy carton from her and set it down on the belt.

I heard a snicker and looked to see Bill hiding his face, the lengths of his wavy hair falling out of place as he bent over the cart's handle as he did.
“God, I'm glad I'm so entertaining,” I snarled, ignoring him. What was I doing checking him out, any way? I wanted to slap him. Hard.

“I'm sorry. Are you having a bad day?” he asked, trying to pull a serious face. Damn him and his arrogance.

“Yes. And if you don't mind, I don't wish to talk about it,” I snapped.

“Fine. We won't. I think there's plenty for us to talk about instead.”
. . . a few moments later, Sabrina takes her purchases out to her car . . .
I made my way out to the parking lot, hoping I could get my ice cream and pizza home before they became too mushy. Arms full, I remoted my car open. There wasn't a whole lot of room in my two-seater, but I set my ice cream and pizza on the floor, figuring I could run the air on it, to keep it cold. I had everything figured out, until I sprinted around the front and noticed the car was tilted at an angle. I looked down and saw I had a flat tire.

“You have a flat tire,” the voice made me turn to find Bill, once again, right there.

“Yeah, I see that,” I said and shoved my hand into my purse trying to locate my cell phone.

Bill did a deep knee bend to peer at the tire. “Oh, I see the problem. You ran over someones keys.”

I looked down to where he was pointing. A huge wad of keys were wedged into my tire.

“Shit,” I swore under my breath. “Shit!” I said more loudly an settled my purse on the hood of my car.

“What are you looking for?” Bill asked.

“My cell phone. I've got Road Side Assistance.” I let go a frustrated gasp. “I forgot my cell phone.” Unable to take much more I buried my face in my hands. This day sucks!

“Hey, Sabrina. This isn't a big deal,” Bill said.

I slanted my eyes to him, sucked air through my nose—which sounded filled with mucus, and so appealing. Hands on hips he stared back at me through his cool Oakley sunglasses. The sun glinted off his shades and his expensive large watch.

“What do you mean it isn't a big deal? My ice cream will melt by the time I get someone down here to change it.”

“I'll change it, and we'll put your ice cream and anything else into my car.” He turned hit his remote and a white Escalante honked, lights blinked on. It was a pretty nice looking vehicle and I really couldn't remember seeing it in Mrs. Bench's driveway.

“It might still melt,” I said, moving forward as he opened the back up.

“Not if I put it into the refrigerator.”

“The huh?” I said as he stepped aside and I saw him open up what looked like an ice chest, only I could see that it was a little more than that. I realized as he placed my ice cream, milk and the pizza that it was running off his car's electrical system.

“There,” he said, closing the lid. “Your things will be kept cold while I change the tire.” He pulled off his jacket and laid it inside the front seat.
I gaped at him. “You'll ruin your clothes,” I complained mildly.
He smiled at me with even, white teeth. “It'll be worth it. I haven't told you my price yet.”

Oh, crap.

“Why don't you have a seat inside my car while I work on this?”

I didn't argue. The wind was really chilly, and I had to stepped up onto the running board to ease into the all white interior. He had gadgets that I didn't know existed on a vehicle. More dials and hoopla than I'd seen in other cars.

The clank of a tire iron turned my attention to Bill's actions as he took out my spare—which was one of those generic things that was a few inches wider than a bicycle tire—and went to work on jacking the little car up. The Solstice looked quite humbled with a tire pulled off it, ten minutes later. Bill's motions keeping me more than entertained, especially since he'd pulled the sweater off and was down to a white tee with a V-neck. I was certainly getting my share of male upper body and bare arms that looked like he pumped iron. I noticed that a few other women who had parked nearby couldn't yank their eyes off Bill any more than I could, so I felt that it wasn't just me.

When finished, I had a wheel on my Solstice, but it looked ridiculous. Bill returned the jack and tire iron back inside my tiny trunk. He rolled my damaged tire to the back of his Escalante, lifted it inside, and shut the hatch.

Slapping the dirt from his hands he stepped back around as I slid out of his nice Cadillac.

“I've got a place in DeKalb I can take this to and they'll fix it right up.”

“Okay,” I said feeling my stomach somersault a little. “What do I owe you?”

“Lunch.”

“Lunch, huh?”

“My choice,” he added. “Tell you what. We'll get these groceries home, then, I'll drive us to the tire place, and while they fix it, we'll go to lunch. I know a nice place, just a block or so down from it.” So I would have to pay for lunch on top of getting the tire fixed. The tire, once fixed, would have to go back on the car. Somehow. I presumed he was willing to do this as well, but I couldn't ask at this point. He had gone to great trouble to help me. I would have been slightly suspicious that he'd deflated the tire, if it hadn't been for the wad of keys stuck into the tire.

I had no choice. He had my tire, and he'd changed the wheel so that I could at least get home. Plus, he had my ice cream. He drove a hard bargain.
Fifteen minutes later, I pulled into my drive with Bill pulling up behind me. I jogged back to retrieve my groceries from his cooler.

“I'll pick you up,” Bill said as he handed me my bags.

“Okay, give me a few minutes to change.”


“You? I'm the one who got dirty.”

“Right.” I lifted my hand in surrender and walked toward my house.

There were times when I felt that chance meetings were merely that, but this one had all the earmarks of someone messing with kismet. But then again, the keys in my tire proved beyond the shadow of the doubt that Bill could not have done this on purpose just to get me to go out with him. Unless he could jam a set of keys into a tire, I had no case. He'd won lunch fair and square.

On the way to town Bill tells her a little bit about himself. His parents live in Monaco, and his father is an ambassador. He's staying with Mrs. Bench for now, because he had to find her.

“So, she's your maternal grandmother?” I asked.

“Right.”

“And does your mother have magical abilities, too?”

“Actually, she did.”

“Did?”

“My father re-married. My birth mother died.”

“Oh. I'm sorry.” Da-a-mn. “So, you're name is Robert Gannon, your parents live in Europe, and your other name is Belphegon after some ancient society, or something. And you speak to Fallen Angels.”

I got the response I was hoping for. His shoulders tightened and he slipped a finger of his free hand between his even white teeth. Slipping it out, he said, “So, you've figured out that he was a Fallen Angel? How do you know this?”

“I'm not on the hot seat, today, you are.” I waited as he stopped at a light and we paused in action, inside as well as outside.

He let out a breath. “What do you know about the Fallen Ones?”

I shrugged. “I could probably find out on-line, but I'm not a computer geek, so enlighten me.”

“My father's line is progeny from the Fallen Angels.” He glanced over to take in my expression. I kept a blank look in place. The light changed and he made his left hand turn, heading into the larger town. “Our lineage have been on the look out for the sibyl.”

“And you've found me,” I said. “So, now what?”

He looked over at me. “You honestly don't know?”

“No.”

He sped around a semi in the left lane of a four-lane, eased up on the gas and we coasted through the derelict end of town. He ran a hand over his jaw. Nerves. Definitely. He let go a heavy sigh. “This isn't how it's supposed to go,” he said finally.

“What do you mean?”

“I'm trying to take you out. I'm trying to get to know you and you get to know me. I'm trying to date you, like any respectful guy would do.”

“Okay. So, you want to go out with me. Then what?”

“Well, you know,” he said, shrugging. “We date for a while, maybe a few months. I propose and we get married and have kids.”
I'm not sure if my eyes popped out, or if my mouth dropped to my lap, but something definitely went boing.

“Wow. You definitely don't know the intricacies of dating, do you?”

He glanced at me. “I'm sorry?”

“You just told me that you intend to ask me to marry you, have kids and settle down.”

“Right. That's how it's done. I assume that's the correct procedure, unless things have changed?”

“No. No. You've got it pretty well down. Although some people have been doing it backwards for a while.”

“How so?” he asked. He's kidding, right?

“Uh, some are having the kids and then getting married,” I said.

“Really?”

“Yeah. You sure you haven't been hiding in a cave for a few decades?”

“No. But, just so you know? I'm a virgin.”

I hit the window switch, let the window down, and leaned toward the opening to feel the cool air on my hot face. “How could you be a virgin?” I asked, gazing at him with renewed interest.

“I've been keeping myself for you.”

He turned into a tire shop. The conversation had stopped, and I sooo wanted to get back to it.
(end of chapter)