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Elf
April 3rd, 2011, 07:45 PM
So . . . I've restarted and revamped my SPF novel and . . . yeah.


The Supernatural Protection Force
SPF Case 01
By: Jennifer L. Barnes

Prologue
New York, New York
2003

Footsteps rushed with uttermost silence across damp pavement, each step pressing even closer. Towers of steel and glass blurred into stout buildings made of brick and mortar as the path became narrower and winding. One wrong step would end everything as two figures passed amongst uncaring vagrants of every shape and size.

Cold hands brushing against burning, trembling skin. A flash of pink cotton with a tiny white satin ribbon. Sobs growing higher and higher. The quivering length of white skin along a sleek thigh. A small voice was begging it to stop. Invading fingers. Pain. More screams as a long tongue laved at pure crimson. A sharp sting turning to blinding pleasure before building to darkness before fading to nothing at all.

The image was branded in perfect clarity in his mind along with hundreds of others he would wash away. Save for this one. This one gave him purpose and clarity; a chance to channel the red invading his vision and the heat threatening to consume him whole. So he ran to hunt the hunter.

He would slay the monster, but he had no illusions of heroism. The sheer need of it bubbled thickly along pulsating veins to motivate each step. Everything passed through his tunneling vision with crystal clarity from the salty musk of a prostitute finishing a client, a hot dog stand over cooking its wares to sting nostrils, the flickering white of a dress shirt, and the pale limbs moving ahead of him. The silver cross bounced against his chest with each step as he reached with his left hand and drew its chain over his head. Long fingers curved over the familiar piece of silver as it started to warm against his skin as his quarry’s direction shifted.

Lips quirked up as the monster made its mistake as he sharply turned back between two brick buildings. He ran half way into the alley before reaching the fire escape on the right hand building. Muscles hunched before propelling their owner upwards onto the heavy metal rungs of the ladder before lean limbs quickly clambered up. Within moments air rushed around him as he reached the roof. He ran to ledge to see the pale figure stopping short below between three buildings locking his escape.

There was no thought, he just leapt over the side to meet the ground rushing towards him. The cross was tightly held in his left hand as he impacted flesh upon flesh, living amongst the dead. Crimson eyes looked upward in surprised as clawed hands reached out for him, but the hand with the cross went down hard. The sound and scent of burning flesh filled his ears and his nose as he pressed his faith down.

“You little fuck!” screamed the tall figure with pale skin through a fanged mouth. Teeth gritted, he kept his hold on his cross as he pressed it against the thing’s face. Smoke rose from blackening skin as glowing eyes glared. An inhuman snarl sounded from that mouth with its sharp fangs while a clawed hand slammed into the side of his head.

Pain blossomed and his ears rang, sending him reeling to the side. The cross slid down to quietly clang against the ground before the first blow was followed by a second. This time he dodged the quickly thrown swipe. His throat was raw, but he was barely breathing hard and he shook off the ringing in his ears. “Vampire,” he said in a low voice as his eyes narrowed.

“What’s with this homeless Van Helsing shit?” the vampire said as his eyes flickered over him.

He glared, balled his fist and drove it directly into the vampire’s midsection. Crimson eyes widened in surprise as his fist met him dead on with enough force to stagger him back. Knuckles throbbed , but the pain was a welcome thing as another step forward was taken to throw another punch. He swung with his right hand but it was caught in a vice like grip before pressure was applied to it.

Pain shot through his arm in heavy explosions as bones ground and crunched against one and another. He gasped as the heat spread through him. Canines throbbed in response in his mouth and he gasped as his vision sharpened. Strength surged through his muscles as a growl left his lips before thrusting his knee right between the vampire’s legs. Eyes narrowed, that dripping mouth twisted into an interesting O of surprise as the hard knee met soft tissue before crumbling to the ground. Hands cradled the wounded area as he brought up his leg to have his foot meet the vampire’s face.

Blood erupted from the impact and the coldly sweet copper smell filled his nostrils. His canines were throbbing even harder in his mouth as his heart raced like a drum. Blood rushed through his head as he bent down to retrieve his cross. The metal felt reassuring in his hand only before agony erupted through him as the ground went rushing up to meet him.

Air was knocked out of his lungs as pain vibrated through his body, clutching his ribs and throat as he gasped on the ground. A heavy foot pressed against his aching chest before its twin pressed against his wrist, forcing his hand and the cross into it against the rough pavement. A heavy cough shook him as he struggled to force air through his nose and mouth.

Alien, glowing eyes narrowed at him as the vampire said, “A fucking half breed.”

He bent forward to lock eyes with him. The smell of bubble gum and hand sanitizer clung to him as one hand hooked under his left canine. It ached and pulsed in response, growing even longer before the vampire tugged on it. A scream left his lips unbidden as searing pain filled his mouth and caused him to twitch. “Looks like you’re close to going Rogue too,” the vampire said in a low voice.

He met the vampire’s eyes and coughed, “Fuck you.”

“I like little girls, not little boys,” the vampire said with a smile that pressed his fangs into his lips. He tilted his head and said, “Rumor has it that I have to kill you quick to make sure you stay dead. Strangling and snapping your neck aren’t sure things, and I can’t drain you. . . You’ve put me in quite the predicament, dhampire.”

The dhampire thrashed in the grip of his mortal enemy as his eyes roamed around for anything. He tried to push himself up, but the feet pinning him down held him with ease. “Fuck you!” he yelled before growling and baring his own fangs.

“Such language,” a low, throaty, lyrical woman’s voice said from the alley entrance.

The vampire stilled, his eyes going wide as he looked ahead. The voice with the lilting accent said, “Coulter.”

The vampire, Coulter, hissed, “I’ll kill him if you take a step closer, bitch.”

Despite being pressed into the ground, he arched up to tilt his head to look behind him. At his angle the world was pitched head over feet, but the image of the tall woman with blond hair and a black leather coat that swept around her was easy enough to see. His body stilled as his senses started to scream at him as he realized he was the only person alive in this alley. He began to buck and struggle as the blond reached to her hip to pull out some crazily huge revolver and calmly point it at Coulter.

A slim finger squeezed on the trigger and then a loud bang filled the alley as fire erupted from the barrel. He jerked as he felt cold gore spray him in the face as Coulter’s neck erupted into a fine spray. There was a heavy, wet thud as the head hit the pavement, but instead of a pressing weight of a dead body, he was only coated with a fine spray of ash.

Eyes wide he sprang to his feet as the blond slid her weapon to a side holster before she stepped closer. He held up his cross and said, “Stay the fuck back.”

“You know what really bloody pisses me off?” the blond said before flashing him a smile.

He only glared at her as she continued to move towards him. Now that he was right side up he could make her out better. The shirt and jeans she was wearing hung loose on her slim frame, blond hair was braided down to her waist, and he met large eyes that were neither blue nor violet. Her nose turned up slightly and her lower lip was plumper than the top, giving her a pouting look.

And she only looked a handful of years older than him.

A steel toed boot poked ashes and blood on the ground as she hissed, “Sodding pedophile.”

He scowled and she looked up at him before tilting her head. “Poppet, you can put the cross away,” she said with a shake of her head.

He glared and replied, “I’m a fucking dhampire.”

“Yes, one who has no idea what the bloody hell they’re doing and nearly getting themselves killed,” she said with a shake of her head.

His eyes narrowed even more as he asked, “Who the fuck are you?”

“Lovely vocabulary that you have there, poppet. What do you do, gargle in a gutter and then slip your tongue to a toilet seat?” she said with a chuckle.

He frowned at her, but he kept his cross in front of her. “And you’re a Christian. Well, at least your items are faith are rather common this day and age,” she said with a sigh.

He thrust the cross towards her, but she caught his wrist with her right hand and his elbow with his left. Then she wrenched her hands apart to twist his arm using the momentum to hold it against his back. Lavender, leather, and oranges filled his nostrils as she was pressing his arm against his back. The joints and bones protested as they sent tiny shots of pain through his arm, but he could tell they were in no danger of being broke.

However a subtle twist of her hand would shatter my arm, he thought.

He swallowed as she held him with ease, and he was aware of her slim body pressed against his and her braid brushing his shoulder. His heart raced as need spiked through him as he turned his head to meet her indigo eyes. “My name’s Forest. Now are you going to be a good lad or am I going to have to take you back to my place like this?”

“Why don’t you fucking kill me?” he asked as he continued to meet her eyes.

Forest shrugged and said, “Because you’ve done nothing wrong but being a moron and no one’s done a lick of anything to set you on any path.”

“So why you?” he asked with a frown.

Despite holding his arm with her hands she shrugged, grinned and said, “I have this compulsion where I always have to do the right thing, save the day and all of that. So, do you have a name, poppet?”

“Frost. Quinn Frost,” he said as she let him go.

Grant
April 4th, 2011, 01:58 PM
I assume you don't mind if we respond here? If you do I'll get rid of this and do the rite of Crouch of the Wild Tiger.

Seems to move a bit quick for a prologue. I would have suggested expanding it to 10 pages or so.

Tobias
April 4th, 2011, 02:33 PM
A new dlf work, ale ays cause for celebration!


Hmmm.... You know, there is a Lot of emotion and not much thought. Whatever the relative morality, it's frost that seems the beast and coulter the man, if that makes sense.

Elf
April 4th, 2011, 09:42 PM
Hmmm.... You know, there is a Lot of emotion and not much thought. Whatever the relative morality, it's frost that seems the beast and coulter the man, if that makes sense.

Which was what I was going for. :)


I assume you don't mind if we respond here? If you do I'll get rid of this and do the rite of Crouch of the Wild Tiger.

And yes, you guys can comment on it, PLEASE comment on it!


Seems to move a bit quick for a prologue. I would have suggested expanding it to 10 pages or so.

This prologue is suppose to move rather quickly. I think of it like a teaser to a TV show before the credits rolling. Like the "Cold Opens" on Supernatural and the Teasers on Buffy and Angel.

Tobias
April 4th, 2011, 10:03 PM
Oh, well, there you go then, carry on.


Enjoyed it, at any rate.

Elf
April 4th, 2011, 10:22 PM
Thank you. XD

Kieran
April 4th, 2011, 10:35 PM
Ah, you brought it back. Good. :)

Tobias
April 4th, 2011, 10:38 PM
Brought it back? I don't remember this being on the old board.


Well, not during this time frame anyway.

Elf
April 4th, 2011, 11:20 PM
Ah, you brought it back. Good. :)

More like totally re-writing it, reconstructing the world, and pardon the pun, revamp it. :)

The SPF's mission is going to be something else this time.

FcS
April 8th, 2011, 06:46 AM
Wheee! Can't wait for updates of this, lol. Haven't read anything in Elf-verse in a while... Fics don't count XD

Tobias
April 8th, 2011, 08:17 AM
*snicker*

Doncha mean, "the forest?"

Satehi
April 9th, 2011, 11:40 PM
Interesting prologue.

It's nice to see the characters in their native environment, but I do have to wonder,


Well, at least your items are faith are rather common this day and age,”

Shouldn't this be:


Well, at least your items of faith are rather common this day and age,”

?

Ace
April 12th, 2011, 05:09 PM
This is awesome, I was always a huge fan of Buffy and Angel and this has a similar feel to it. Also, here's the obligated

I NEED MOAR ;P

Tobias
April 13th, 2011, 06:03 PM
Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeellllllfffff..........mooooooooooooa aaaaaaarrrrr......

Elf
April 14th, 2011, 08:15 PM
I'm working on it, I'm working on it!

Until then: http://forums.nrvnqsr.com/showthread.php/388-Elf-s-Adventures-as-a-Published-Author?p=47553#post47553

Elf
April 17th, 2011, 08:53 PM
Chapter One
New York, New York
2011


Blue and red lights flashed and pulsed that caught and created hellish shadows to dance across brick walls. The air was thick with the copper sweet tang of blood and the low, putrid smell of spilled waste. A large hand had its fingers curved in impossible angles as it lay flat upon the pavement in a pool of liquid. Flashing white lights illuminated dark liquid into a deep, muddy red like poor garnets. One denim clad leg that was soaked with gore with bits of shinning white poking out of it was strewn half way across the alley.

People in dark uniforms kept the alley free of any interlopers. Others were standing above with cameras taking pictures at every conceivable angle. Gloved hands painstakingly scraped cotton swabs against brick walls and sodden pavement before storing them individually in sealed bags. Despite the different tasks at hand, everyone there was focused on the carnage openly thrown upon the pavement.

“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,” a low voice muttered as a shaking hand wiped against a clammy mouth.

Bile rose up rapidly in Detective James Dukes’ mouth but he quickly swallowed it. He rapidly shook his head before looking at the mangled bits below him. Nostrils burned with the stench of blood, urine, and shit to cause bile to rise into an already scorching throat. He blinked rapidly before clamping his hand over his mouth and spinning to the side.

I’m not fucking throwing up, he thought as he coughed into his hand. He fought the battle with the bile and it was forced downwards. With a sigh the detective rose back to his height before taking a handkerchief from his pocket and moping his sodden features down. Immediately the lack of moisture smacked sensitive skin with the bite in the late October air. He took a deep breath before turning back to the body.

“Here,” came a low, even voice from beside him. James jumped and spun around as his heart threatened to rip out of his chest. He shook his head, glared and wiped his forehead with his sleeve as a blue glass jar with a green cap was offered to him.

James sighed and said, “Jesus Frost, I need to put a bell on your ass.”

“Sorry,” the young detective said, his voice neither changing in pitch or tone, just that low, hauntingly quiet monotone. “It’s greasy as shit, but it’ll help with the fucking smell,” Frost said as he reached out with the jar of Vicks.

“Thanks,” James said as he twisted open the cap and dipped his fingers into the viscous jelly contained inside. Even though the jar’s instructions thoroughly stated not to rub directly in one’s nostrils, the payload of Vicks was loaded directly into James’ nose. Automatically the heavy smell of menthol was like a punch to the face but one quick inhale opened up a tight chest and throat.

Frost nodded and closed the cap of the jar before tucking into the pocket of the lightweight dark blue canvas jacket he was wearing. The jacket looked like it was military surplus with lots of pockets and more function than fashion. It also harmonized with Frost’s dark blue eyes, pale skin, and the large silver cross the younger detective was never seen without. Automatically one pale hand reached up to lightly move the cross up and down its chain as Frost’s own greased up nostrils flared at the sight.

“Fuck,” Frost said, shaking his head.

James nodded and said, “I know. Poor bastard right. Looks like an animal attack right?”

“No. No fucking claw marks or bite marks,” Frost said with a shake of his head.

James frowned before looking back at the mangled mess of parts strewn across the alley. His eyes widened at Frost’s assessment. The limbs, torso, and head were unmarred other than the fact it looked as if they had been pulled apart like some macabre wishbone. “Jesus,” James said with a scowl, “You’re right.”

Frost held out his hand and beckoned with two fingers to signal a tech to come running with a box of gloves. Within moments the other detective’s artisan like hands were sheathed into blue nitrate. “Two by two, hands of blue,” Frost said in a near whisper as he knelt down closer to inspect a bare arm with fingers still gripping the pavement. “No post mortem longevity, but the path of blood spillage isn’t fucking enough to account for five liters of blood.”

“So, no blood in the body but not enough to say it was spilled when all of this happened,” James said with a frown.

Frost nodded as one dark brown curl fell into his face. An annoyed shake of the head tossed it off as pitiless eyes almost like a shark’s surveyed the massacre before them. “That’s right, Dukes,” Frost said as he eyed the older man.

“Fuck,” James said with a scowl.

Frost stood up to his full height, which was a couple of inches below James’, and said, “I want to be there when they do the fucking autopsy.”

“Not surprised,” James grumbled, knowing fully well the nickname his current partner had earned.

Those intense eyes narrowed as Frost said, “You should fucking be there too.”

“Yeah yeah,” James said, giving Frost a dismissive wave. Frost glared some more, the effect somehow not ruined by his Hollywood good looks, or maybe heightened due to his sharp cheek bones and fair skin. James had thought his partner was unsettling since the moment he’d laid eyes on him a couple of months ago, not to mention Frost had a notorious reputation to go through partners like rolls of toilet paper.

Frost said, “If you opened your fucking eyes, then you’d see what’s in your fucking face.”

Another thing was that the kid like to abuse profanity as if it was going out of style. If anything, James had noticed that if Frost wasn’t cursing, then he was truly agitated. James ignored the outburst and said, “Come on, we’ve got a lot of work to do, Frost.”

“You mean I have a lot of fucking work to do,” Frost said evenly, causing James to twitch ever so slightly as he headed back to their Crown Victoria.


Edina, Minnesota

“Hey, sweet cheeks, we could use another round here!”

Teeth ground against each other as a corkboard was gripped with white knuckles as the busy din of the restaurant buzzed in sore ears. Alice Ryan had been called many different things, but “sweet cheeks” made her feel as if someone had slid slime or something else unpleasant over her body. Eyes narrowed at the group of college students sitting there with their scruffy good looks and bright eyes. The tallest lifted up his empty bottle of Rolling Rock with a smile and proceeded to shake it.

She looked over to see Sally their hostess with the most sit some insanely tall guy in her section. “Hey, babe, come on!” someone from the Frat Table called out as they joined Rolling Rock in shaking their empty bottle of Amber Bock at her. Taking a deep breath, she walked over to the table and began to pick up the empty beer bottles.

“So, how long’s your shift?” Rolling Rock Guy said as his eyes roamed over her. Not that the standard green polo shirt, black slacks and multitude of buttons that had to be worn were particularly appealing, but the body hidden by the shapeless clothing was straining against the fabric. Alice bit the inside of her cheek as Amber Bock nudged his friend with an elbow and nodded up towards her face.

Alice balanced the beer bottles on her board and said, “Too long, sorry guys.”

“Well, it’s not like we’re going anywhere,” Rolling Rock said with a grin.

A large hand with a deep pentagram tattoo on it rested a bottle of Stella Artios on the board as amber eyes met hers. The face was sharp with a couple of days of stubble, but his movements were more deliberate than the others. He said, “We’d like to get to know you.”

Alice took a deep breath and said, “So, I’ve got a Rolling Rock, an Amber Bock, a Stella, and a . . .” She tilted her head to read the dark label with macabre art like out of something from a Dance Macabre painting with a skeleton drinking from a keg. She read, “Rogue Dead Guy.”

Rogue Dead Guy was relaxed in his seat as one blue opened before he smiled. He was a bit cleaner shaved than his other three companions and his jeans and vintage rock T-shirt were in better shape. On his left hand there was a very faint pentagram etched there, as if it was an older tattoo than Stella’s. A quick look around the table disconcerted that Rolling Rock and Amber Bock sported the same mark on their left hands.

Could be some military or frat boy thing, she thought with a shrug as she asked, “So, want another Rogue Dead Guy?”

“It’s better on tap. What Stouts do you have on tap?” Rogue Dead Guy asked as he ran a hand through spiky brown hair, his blue eyes meeting hers.

She blushed as she said, “Ummm . . . Well . . .” She proceeded to list the on tap menu from memory, not really knowing the difference between Stout, Porter, Ale, Lager, and Lambic.

“Guiness, fuck the Irish,” Stella said with a laugh and a shake of his head.

Rogue Dead Guy reached over and slammed the flat of his hand against Stella’s head. He said, “Hush.” His blue eyes danced as he smiled at Alice. He said, “I’ll take a large Sam Adams Imperial Stout then.”

“Right, I’ll be right back with your beers,” she said with a smile before looking at the tall guy in her section pouring over his menu.

Rolling Rock said, “Snap to it sweet cheeks.”

“Yeah, she’s got some sweet tits on her too,” Amber Bock said with a laugh as Alice quickly retreated. She made her way to the bar with her cheeks on fire as she gave the bartender the order. Old bottles were cleared away and new ones as well as a pint of dark liquid were placed in their wake. The new load was noticeably heavier than the last, but she adjusted it and made her way over to the Pentagram Quartet.

“Thanks Sugar Tits,” Amber Bock said with a laugh before Rogue Dead Guy gave him another back hand to the back of his head. Amber Bock cursed, “Goddamn it, ass! What the fuck did you do that for?”

“Because you were being a fucking tard, that’s why Jack,” Stella said with a snort, “And Sugar Tits? Do you think you’re some crazy actor or something, Lord Tard.”

Cheeks even more on fire, Alice passed around the beer. She asked, “Anything else, guys?”

Rolling Rock said, “I can think of a few . . .” His tirade was silenced by Rogue Dead Guy’s hand over his mouth.

Rogue Dead Guy smiled and said, “Thank you, Alice, we’re okay for now.”

“I’ll be back to check on you later,” she said before running off to her new guy.

Large, almond shaped muddy green eyes looked at her from cautiously staring at the menu. Alice said, “Sorry that took so long, my name’s Alice and I’ll be your server for the evening. Would you like to start on any appetizers or anything?”

“Yeah, that would be awesome . . . Mmm, I’ll take the Ultimate Nachos, two orders of Buffalo Bill’s Wild West Wings with ranch, and . . . you guys have Mr. Pibb and not Dr. Pepper here, right?” he asked.

Alice blinked at his large order nodded and said, “Right.”

“Well, bummer there . . . I’ll take Mr. Pibb. So, when you come back with my drinks and enter my appetizers in the computer you’ll take the rest of my order?” he asked with a smile. Alice blinked at the total lack of patronizing in his tone and nodded. “Cool, cool . . . because I’m like just starving and if you had a cow back there I’d probably eat it.”

Alice chuckled at that and said, “Well, I’d have them kill and cook the cow first.”

“Either way’s fine with me, but . . . it is better with cheese. Then again, everything’s better with cheese,” he said as he scratched the back of his head. He had bronze skin, sharp, angular features and thick, black hair that made him look like he was mostly Native American.

Again she chuckled at that, his eagerness a welcome trade from being called “sweet cheeks” or “Sugar Tits”. She asked, “So, that’s a lot of food right? You have someone joining you?”

“Nope, just me,” he said with a shake of his head.

Maybe this guy wants a lot of leftovers or something. He’s got that college bachelor vibe to him, Alice thought with a smile. She said, “Well, I’ll go put your appetizer order in and come back with your drink.”

“Sweet! Thanks, Alice,” he said with a grin.


***

There were four mutts harassing the little bottle blond on the other side of the restaurant between downing beers. Brandon Knight watched them with narrowed eyes as they were oblivious to his presence. The urge to growl was heavy in his throat as Alice returned with his appetizers.

A deep breath mingled with a sigh as the sharp, burning scent of cyanine mixed with vinegar stung sensitive nostrils. Then the sharper yet still just as pungent scent of jalapenos and heavy cheese as well as the savory scent of spiced meat mingled in a mouth watering fashion. Brandon sat up and smiled at the food, the mutts temporarily forgotten, as it was sat before him. He smiled and said, “Oh wow, thanks. Dude, I’m sooooo starving.”

“Well, I’d hope so with what you got,” Alice said with a chuckle and a shake of her head.

A garishly orange piece of chicken was plunged into a ceramic container filled with ranch before all but inhaled. The savory burn intermingled with the cool, tangy dressing in perfect harmony on his tongue. Teeth and jaws worked twice before Brandon swallowed. He looked up at her with wide eyes and said, “These are really good, better than the place back home.”

“Well, where are you from?” Alice asked with a wide smile.

Brandon consumed another tender before answering, “Around Ely.”

“Where the International Wolf Center is, right?” Alice asked as her smile grew.

He nodded and said, “Yep, my mom’s even worked with Dr. Mech.”

“Oh, is your mom a biologist?” Alice asked as the dull look in her brown eyes was completely washed away.

Brandon nodded and said, “Yeah she is”

“I’m studying botany. Hence me putting in my time here,” Alice said with a snort,
“Parents made too much for school aid, but not enough to help me pay for schooling.”

“And whatever scholarships you got really didn’t do jack diddly?” Brandon asked.

She nodded with a sigh and said, “Yeah, hole in one.”

“Dude, that really sucks,” Brandon said with a sigh, “So, your major’s botany?”

Alice nodded and said, “Yeah, I know it really isn’t going to help me but . . .”

“You should do what you love,” Brandon said with a smile, “Especially after putting up with the magnum douches over there.”

She flinched and said, “I’m not really surprised you noticed.”

“I’d cut their heads off if I had half a chance,” Brandon said with a glare towards the mutt’s table. From across the room blue eyes met his and they locked, just staring at each other. The blue eyed mutt looked away before looking at Alice and slowly licking his lips. Every muscle tensed as energy thrummed through sleek muscles as hair bristled in response.

Alice blinked and said, “Well . . . not that I haven’t had homicidal thoughts before but . . .”

“Just be careful when you go out to your car tonight, okay Alice,” Brandon said as he met her eyes.

She frowned and said, “Those guys might be jerks, but it’s not anything I can’t handle.”

“Please, watch out for them. They’re no good,” Brandon said as he glared at the blue eyed mutt from across the room again.

Alice said, “Come on, they’re probably frat boys or guys on leave . . .”

“They’re werewolves,” Brandon said in a low voice as Alice went utterly still and stared down at him with wide eyes.

Kieran
April 17th, 2011, 10:32 PM
Well, I spotted at least one Firefly reference . . . :D

Elf
April 17th, 2011, 10:36 PM
Quinn's a geek. He's an asshole, but he's also a geek.

Tobias
April 18th, 2011, 06:54 PM
Speaking of references, Alice is apparantly a beautleguese fan.


Also, yay updates!