He watches me, leg rising from the tepid bathwater, as I step down onto the tiled floor. I flip clear my wet, caramel hair and look back at him, seeing his eyes slid down my tattooed spine and linger on my backside. I reach for my robe, but he seizes it in quick fingers, and folds it over his arm.
“You’re like a Degas painting,” he says, his smile pure honey. “Woman in a bath. You know it?”
“What do you want, Noah.” I turn, and he sees I’ve released my claws.
“I got a job for the wolf.”
(Inspired by a Edgar Degas painting & written for The Prediction. Challenge words: caramel, Degas, seize )
Callon was not one for abnegation, especially when it applied to whiskey and medieval weaponry.
“You plan the best dates,” Jaen said. She grinned a tight, dark smile and ran a finger over the sharpened point of a crossbow bolt lying on the table.
“What, no words of caution? No demands to think and sober up first?” He grinned. “No attempts to handcuff me again?”
Jaen handed him the bolt. “Nobody puts Baby in a corner.”
“You’re hoping Sirius puts a bullet in my chest, aren’t you.”
“You’ve got a strong core. You’ll live. More importantly, you’ll provide a distraction.”
Read the on-going story here
(Written for The Prediction. Challenge words: abnegate, core, whiskey)
Hands on her thighs, Emily took a deep, ragged breath, drawing in the familiar aroma of peppermint and spearmint. Another scent crept in, strange and fetid. A smell that didn’t belong.
Frowning, Emily opened her eyes. She looked towards the tall, rough rock wall that separated her garden from the wilds of Graemforth Park. Gifted to the city long ago, it’d been sealed three years back after a series of unexplained wolf attacks. Unexplained, as there were no wolves in the city.
An itch began on one earlobe, and she tugged at her silver earring in annoyance.
(Written for The Prediction. Challenge words: earring, park, spearmint)
An expression of contentment tugged on the corners of Callon’s mouth, as he stared at the TV over Jaen’s shoulder.
Growling, Jaen gave him a none-too-subtle jab in the ribs. “Here we are discussing Sirius’ skill with rib bones and ribboned muscle, and a damn hockey game turns out to be your lullaby. Wipe that flaccid look off your face, and focus.”
Callon tapped his temple with a bottle of beer. “Multitasking, Jaen dear. So, perhaps we let Sirius complete the summoning. Give the Keldoor Brothers something to play with.”
“And put our heads in a sack? No thank you.”
Read the on-going story here
(Written for The Prediction. Challenge words: flaccid, lullaby, sack)
Shoulder to thigh in a shadowed doorway, Jaen and Callon watched a huddle of uniformed police officers walk down the brownstone’s stairs with faces more gray than the storm-dampened sky overhead. A lone woman stepped out onto the landing, presumably a plainclothes detective, and stared with hard eyes at the small crowd splayed along the fringe of caution tape.
Callon flared his nostrils, eyes grim, as he stared at the open door beyond the detective. “I smell blood,” he said. He could imagine the sanguine mess that Sirius had left inside.
“He’s getting careless.”
“No. He’s making a point.”
Previously… (1) Hunting in the Park, (2) Hounded, (3) Rotten Fruit, (4) Bait, (5) Regrets
(Written for The Prediction. Challenge words: lone, sanguine, splay)
Jaen eyed the dented roof dubiously, as rain hammered on the metal with all the subtly of a queue of enthusiastic cloggers. “Cozy,” she said, her voice implying anything but.
“We can’t all afford penthouses like Lennox. So, what brings her favorite beagle to my door?” Grinning, Callon lifted a beer can to his mouth and punctured the aluminum with an elongating canine.
Jaen’s eyes sharped dangerously. “Have you seen the paper recently? I say seen, since I have sincere doubts you can read.”
“Hah! So this is about Sirius. He shows up and the proverbial abyss yawns yet again.”
Previously… (1) Hunting in the Park
(Written for The Prediction. Challenge words: paper, queue, yawn)