Wednesday Words: Stone Cold

Another week half-way done and time for this week’s #1lineWed theme. Chill out, grab an ice tea and settle in for some cold-blooded words centered around the theme of **COLD**. 😉 This is a scene from Roman’s book (with a new tentative title of THE SOUND OF SILENCE) but sadly, no Roman. Roman doesn’t have any cold in his life at the moment though I need to do something about that. Instead, we get a little scene with the gargoyle Varrick (who we first met in THAT OL’ BLACK MAGIC) and my favorite FBI agent, Sade Marquis. There’s bad stuff stirring in the gargoyle-verse and Varrick has been tasked with helping Sade. Fun times! 😆

***
Ignoring the steaming corpses littering the alley, Varrick felt like freaking Hansel—only the birdies obliterating this particular trail of breadcrumbs were vultures of the preternatural kind and he wasn’t hunting an old witch. He smelled the coppery taint of blood, tasted the rusted-iron sharpness of it around the shallow drags he pulled on his cigarette. His Gretel waited at the entrance. Sade Marquis. FBI agent. Dead sexy. She racked a new magazine in her 9mm, the metallic sound echoing. He’d already reloaded his specially modified .44 Mag. If six rounds of HE didn’t take down their targets, they were dog food anyway.

“Roman, you owe me big time, brother!” Varrick snarled. He was only here because of his blood debt to Roman. Hunting rogue gargoyles was a pain in the ass. Literally. He rolled his head on his neck, vertebrae grinding like ancient granite. This whole fiasco had been the Fed’s idea. She might be stone cold—and that was a compliment coming from a gargoyle—but she was still human and if anything happened to her, more than Roman would be ready to grind him into dust.

A grating sound brought his head up. One idiot rogue tried to sneak up on Sade. Varrick raised the Mag, squeezed. Acrid smoke from his cigarette danced with the fog crawling across the docks as powdered granite swirled and settled, just so much dust in the wind.

The bitch Fed glared. “I can do this. Alone.”

“Like hell. Roman’ll take my head if you get hurt.”

“I need one alive.”

“Yeah, good luck with that.” A bullet whistled past his ear, ricocheted. He whirled but before he could fire, the gargoyle behind him disintegrated. What the hell kind of loads was the Fed carrying?

Sade smirked and holstered her weapon. “Or maybe not.”
***
I’m making progress on this story and seem to still be on track for a Halloween release. Does anyone have some cold words to share?

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About Silver James

I like walks on the wild side and coffee. Lots of coffee. Warning: My Muse runs with scissors. Author of two award-winning series--Moonstruck and The Penumbra Papers, Red Dirt Royalty (Harlequin Desire) & other books! Purveyor of magic, mystery, mayhem and romance. Lots and lots of romance.
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2 Responses to Wednesday Words: Stone Cold

  1. SQUEE!

    And no. I got nothing. I’m all used up right now, like a spent balloon.

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