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Here’s another story from Frank’s POV. This actually takes place a few weeks after last weeks and ends at the start of Stealing Seattle, which is from Rory’s POV.
The Ferry Ride
© 2008 Suzanne Lazear
I walked up to the ferry ticket booth on Bainbridge Island, frustrated. I was supposed to meet with my team member Bruce and we were going to go over some details for tonight. Then we were going to go over to the big meeting together. But a wrench had been thrown into my plans. A wrench named Babs.
Babs Bourguignon was an incoming Washington State Senator. She was also the Alpha of the Bainbridge Werewolf pack, and Bruce’s older sister. She wasn’t involved in any of the specific logistics of tonight, but she had participated greatly in the planning – which was something like a half dozen years in the making. She had decided that Bruce’s place was at home, protecting her – not with me doing his assigned job. A fight ensured. One that was still going on when I left.
Eventually Babs would left him go. But in the meantime, I was on my way to the meeting. Alone.
Tonight was something I had been looking forward to for three years. Whereas I’ve known about it since it’s inception, I hadn’t taken an active part in the planning until a few years ago. Sean Macintyre himself approached me, even though I had turned my own father down numerous times. Mac, former head of the FBI, my former place of employment, had a much more attractive offer. It would also piss my parents off.
The Great Unveiling had been talked about for decades. Now it was happening. Tonight the SuNats, the Supernatural creatures that walk among humans, would go on TV and announce that they would hide no longer.
That meant a lot of things needed to be in place, include a new agency to handle SuNat affairs. Mac had “retired” from the FBI a few years ago to move to Seattle to lay the groundwork. He’d be in charge of the intelligence department. I would get to help him build it from the ground up. I’d get my own team. Also, you couldn’t get much further from Syracuse than Seattle. Sometimes DC was too close for comfort.
Seattle was the crux of the movement. It would be the first entirely SuNat run city in an effort to prove that SuNats and humans could co-exist peacefully. This too had been carefully planned and years in the making.
A few weeks ago I had handed in my resignation to the Bureau and had moved out to Seattle to help Mac with the last minute details. Technically I was on vacation, using up the last of my vacation time. I’m not sure if I’d miss the Bureau. After all, the future held something even more exciting than my work in organized crime or domestic terrorism.
There was one person I failed to recruit and it rankled.
I should have brought her on long ago – like a year or two ago. But…
I wasn’t sure what she was. That was a blow to the ego considering that I was a Werewolf, with a superior sense of smell. For four and a half years I had been watching and I was pretty sure she was not Fae or Celestial. They weren’t coming out, but some of them were helping. That left SuNat.
It took me awhile to realize that no one else had recruited her. Everyone seemed to think someone else had her on board, or, that she’d be against it because of her fondness for humans.
Also she was fucking scary – like Alpha female scary.
But holy shit she was the best damn agent I’d ever seen.
She worked for a tiny department that handled unusual things. Like SuNat and Fae things. She was also the only non-human in it. Her antics – and temper – were legendary.
Did I mention she had a killer body and was pretty? There was something about her that drove my wolf crazy.
She also could kick my ass. She seemed to get pleasure in hurting me in public. Like in the cafeteria. She hated my guts. I wasn’t sure why, other then she didn’t like Weres.
Stupidly I had bragged to Mac that I could get her. She wouldn’t even talk to me, and I tried several times before leaving the Bureau. I had also emailed her personal account – which was against the rules even though it was encrypted. I heard jack shit.
Briefly I wondered if tomorrow she’d be on a plane to Seattle sent to tag us. But that was silly. We had enough friends in high places that it wouldn’t happen. Plus her department was a joke. Otherwise they would have known about the Unveiling despite our efforts to keep it from them.
Still, I wished she was here. Whatever the hell she was, we could use her so much more than her little department could. Even if she wasn’t SuNat after all.
I walked onto the Ferry and looked for a seat. There were several groups of kilt-wearing teens on board. Good, they were getting in place. They were part of our plan. The party line was that there was a student protest. That would explain increased security. Really these SuNat teens could help defend and protect if needed.
Passing the coffee cart I need a double take. There was a woman buying coffee that seemed very familiar. She was wearing obscenely tight leather pants, a leather coat, and a Red Sox hat. A black backpack was slung over her shoulder.
Could it be?
My heart beat faster in excitement and anticipation. I positioned myself so she wouldn’t see me. How did she know I’d be on the ferry? What was she doing on Bainbridge anyway? It could be sheer coincidence, or it could be her amazing skills at work. Who knew the full extent of her abilities? The important thing was that she was here.
If it was her.
I watched as the curvy, confident, woman paid for her coffee and walked away.
Bless the mother. It was her.
I watched as Special Agent Rory Richards sat down and sipped her coffee, quietly observing her surroundings.
I could hardly believe my eyes. She had gotten my email. She had read my email. She had believed enough in it to come all the way to Seattle to help me. My prayers had been answered.
I could understand her not calling me. She hated me. Though I wish she didn’t. Four and a half years and I was no closer to figuring her out. It drove both man and wolf crazy. Nevertheless, she was here to help. If not me, she’d help someone. Mac would find a spot for her.
Still, I hoped with all my might that she’d help me. If I just had a chance to work closely with her, even for one night, I could get her to crack, to let me in on what made her tick.
She was thoroughly engrossed in either her thoughts or her surroundings. It was time to make my move.
Silently and gracefully I took the seat next to her, taking out my book I pretended to read. Then carefully, I reached out surreptitiously and touched her arm to get her attention.
“Rory, you’re here.”
Friday, June 27, 2008
Saturday, June 21, 2008
Excitement
I had some minor excitement when I went to visit the PO box yesterday. I got my first manuscript request! I thought that was pretty awesome considering I’ve been slacking on the query sending and have sent out maybe a half dozen carefully selected ones. So I’ll get my packet together, send it off, and cross my fingers…
Friday, June 20, 2008
Flash Fiction Friday -- Can We Chat (he said/she said)
Today I'm doing something different. I wrote the same story twice -- once from Rory's POV and once from Frank's. It's amazing, what person's annoyance is another person's important task.
This story takes place weeks before my novel begins, and about 4 1/2 years after the previous story....
Can we chat? (Rory's POV)
© 2008 Suzanne Lazear
“Hey Richards, mind if I join you?”
This was not happening. All I wanted to do was have a quiet lunch, alone, in the corner. But no, someone declared it was Shit on Rory day. It was probably my boss Terry, since my bad mood was thanks to him. He put me on desk duty. Again. It wasn’t my fault I fucked up. Again. He knew when there wasn’t anything interesting going on I got…creative.
The fact that is was so damn quiet also bugged me. It was October. Someone should be doing something…that stupid Witch Sorority for example. I worked in a little known department of the FBI known as the “SFR” – the department of SuNat/Fae Relations. We were the real x-files. I wished I’d get a cool partner like Mulder or Scully. All mine were damn snacks who were more trouble then they their sorry asses were worth.
Looking up I glared at the speaker. His name was Frank Harris and he was a fellow FBI agent.
“Sorry Frank, but this is a private conversation.” At least he called me Richards, and not Rory. That damn Were finally figured out that I didn’t like him calling me by my first name. Other people could but not him. Yeah, I was prejudice. Frank was a Werewolf. I had no interest in getting to know Werewolves, even ones who said they were nice Werewolves. Frank knew this.
Also, I was not alone at my little table in the corner. Secret Service Agent Brian Samson was sitting with me. We had dated a few times, back when I actually dated, but it hadn’t gone anywhere. I just wasn’t classy enough for the likes of him. The odd thing was he kept asking me out on dates and seeking me out whenever he had business in our building. Like today. It was…weird.
“Who’s this Rory?” Brian looked the FBI agent up and down. Both were good looking, well educated men, with good jobs, who were going places. Neither would leave me alone and neither got the hint. Men were such dumbasses sometimes. At least Brian was human.
“This is Special Agent Frank Harris who’s going to go sit someplace else.”
“Okay, I’ll take a number.” Frank seemed nonplussed as he stood there holding his tray. “Lunch tomorrow then? I want to talk to you before I go on vacation.”
“Um nope.” Frank always wanted to talk to me. His department wanted to borrow me, he wanted to run a scenario by me, he was going to the bar after work with some friends did I want to come, could he have my email address…
“Please, it’s important.”
Now Frank was not a bad guy by any stretch of the imagination. Well, except for the fact that he had more dates than a calendar. I just couldn’t get past the whole fact that he was a Werewolf. I didn’t like them much. Frank wasn’t the only Were with the bureau and I avoided them all.
“The lady said she doesn’t want to speak with you, so could you kindly leave us alone?” Brian had much nicer manners than I did. I might be a woman but I was hardly a lady. My former roommates would attest to that.
“Who are you?” Frank looked the human up and down.
“Brian Samson, Secret Service. Rory and I are having lunch.”
Frank smirked and my fingers itched to smack it right off his good looking face. It wasn’t like it was a lunch date. Brian had hunted me down and sat down since he’d “hate to see a pretty lady sit all alone.” I could sit with my friends Roger and Ron or my co-workers. I just didn’t want to.
“Go away Frank.” If he didn’t move in ten seconds I’d move him. Ten…nine…
“If it’s so important just tell her now.” Brian was the voice of reason. Frank’s look told me it was not something he wanted to discuss in from of Brian, which probably meant it wasn’t something for human ears. I was so not interested.
The Were sighed. “All I need is a few minutes of your time. After work…before work…lunch…whatever.”
I shot him a death glare. I did not want to hear what he wanted to say. I was so hungry. Eating with Brian meant I couldn’t eat as much as usual. I was not human and had a much greater appetite. My friends at least were used to it, especially the ones who knew I wasn’t human.
We were being watched now. Half the bureau was in the cafeteria for lunch today it seemed. Most people know that Rory Richards did not like Frank Harris and that he enjoyed annoying me. But then I did annoy him back, like when I took all his pens and replaced them with ones with the caps glued on. Served him right for ratting me out for stealing someone else’s supplies. In my department we never had enough supplies.
“Please Rory.” First he had to use my first name, even though it bugged me. Second of all he laid a hand on my arm, invading my bubble. I hated to be touched.
That did it. Immediately I stood up and put him in a headlock. Now everyone was watching. Not that they hadn’t seen it before. “Go away Frank.” Maybe this time he’d get the message. He was such a stalker. Releasing him I pushed him away, giving him a death glare for good measure.
Then, as if nothing was wrong I sat back down and picked up my fork. Brian was trying to look horrified, because it was the proper thing to do, but I knew he was amused. A lot of people were amused. After all, Frank was big, and I wasn’t.
I focused my attention on the Secret Service Agent, ignoring both Frank and the buzz around me. “So what were you saying Brian before we were so rudely interrupted?”
Can We Chat -- Part II (Frank’s POV)
© 2008 Suzanne Lazear
It was another day at the FBI. Few people knew it was nearly my last. But I was excited for what lay ahead. The cafeteria was crowded today, like half the Bureau decided to have lunch at the same time.
Taking my tray I scanned the cafeteria for someplace to sit. I also scanned it for someone I needed to talk to…and it wasn’t about FBI business.
After Four and a half years I still didn’t know what made Rory tick – or hate me, aside form the fact that I was a Were and she didn’t like them. She didn’t even like me to call her by name. And if I touched her…
I liked ticking her off, but I was trying to crack her shell. After years of watching and waiting I didn’t know shit. I did know she was a damn fine agent and had the potential to be even more if given a chance. A chance she’d never get working with humans.
Ahh, there she was. The auburn haired beauty was sitting in the corner, probably in a mood. Her latest stunt was the talk of the bureau. I didn’t think anything topped getting banned from the shooting range for shooting a crossbow at other people’s targets.
Sometimes I wondered if the brass didn’t know what she was and what she really could do. After all, she got away with a hell of a lot of shit, but she always got the job done and never got caught. It was awe inspiring.
I wasn’t sure what she was, but I had seen her go against some crazy shit. Her department, the SFR, handed unusual cases. I had finally realized she wasn’t Fae or Celestial. She wasn’t human. That meant she was some kind of SuNat, hence me needing to talk to her. Soon.
Approaching her table I realized she wasn’t alone. She was sitting with some human I’d never seen before. Something about him made me want to growl. Rory didn’t date. Not anymore. Those were some funny stories.
“Hey Richards, mind if I join you?”
Rory gave me a hard stare like she was willing me to drop dead. “Sorry Frank, but this is a private conversation.” Damn she was pretty.
“Who’s this Rory?” The other guy also glared at me. He was not FBI.
“This is Special Agent Frank Harris who’s going to go sit someplace else.” Rory’s voice and expression was tart. She didn’t look happy to be sitting with the other guy. Good.
I smiled. “Okay, I’ll take a number. Lunch tomorrow then? I want to talk to you before I go on vacation.” I couldn’t talk to her with the human present. Hell, I couldn’t talk to her in the cafeteria. Would she let me take her to lunch? Probably not.
“Um nope.”
Dammit. Not that I expected her to say yes. But I was running out of time. D-day was in a few weeks. I was leaving for “vacation” soon. My letter of resignation written.
“Please, it’s important.” I cursed myself for taking to long to ask her. I should have approached her a year ago, or even two. Even if she was Fae she might want in. The Fae weren’t coming out in the great unveiling, but more than a few were helping. Why, I wasn’t sure.
The human bristled. “The lady said she doesn’t want to speak with you, so could you kindly leave us alone?”
I looked him up and down. “Who are you?”
“Brian Samson, Secret Service. Rory and I are having lunch.”
I couldn’t help but smirk. Secret Service? What did she see in him? Why did she date humans anyway? I dated humans because it pissed off my mom.
“Go away Frank.” Rory looked like she was going to hurt me. Whenever I tried to talk to her she inevitably hurt me. Maybe that was why I never tried to recruit her for our side. But damn we could use someone like her. The things I’d heard…
She might not like Weres, but may respected – or were afraid -- of her, especially if they ran illegal pixie-dust houses or lived in West Virginia.
“If it’s so important just tell her now.” The human clearly resented my intrusion.
I sighed. “All I need is a few minutes of your time. After work…before work…lunch…whatever.”
I couldn’t just come out and ask her to not only help me the night the SuNats went on TV and declared their existence to the world, and but to leave the Bureau, move to Seattle and help me in the intelligence department of a brand all-SuNat new agency.
She glared at me again with those unusual hazel eyes of hers. Why did I find her so damn intriguing?
“Please Rory.” Immediately I was in a headlock. What did I do now? Shit. I not only used her first name, but I had reached out and touched her. She hated that. But for some reason I just couldn’t help it. I didn’t just want to touch her, I wanted to pet her. If I didn’t have such good self control…
“Go away Frank.” Everyone was watching. They always did. Gory Rory was highly entertaining. The first time I met her she threw me on my ass.
What could I do? I wasn’t going to win today. But I had her personal email. Email wasn’t the best way. But maybe after reading it she’d come to believe in the cause like I did. I had bragged to Mac that I could get her. She didn’t talk to any of the few SuNats in the bureau or I’d ask for help. I felt like a dumbass.
Rory let me go and with a sigh I picked up my fallen try, ignoring the looks and snickers. Sitting down, she went back to talking to the human.
I wouldn’t give up. Not yet. Maybe she’d surprise me and show up. After all, Rory was full of surprises.
This story takes place weeks before my novel begins, and about 4 1/2 years after the previous story....
Can we chat? (Rory's POV)
© 2008 Suzanne Lazear
“Hey Richards, mind if I join you?”
This was not happening. All I wanted to do was have a quiet lunch, alone, in the corner. But no, someone declared it was Shit on Rory day. It was probably my boss Terry, since my bad mood was thanks to him. He put me on desk duty. Again. It wasn’t my fault I fucked up. Again. He knew when there wasn’t anything interesting going on I got…creative.
The fact that is was so damn quiet also bugged me. It was October. Someone should be doing something…that stupid Witch Sorority for example. I worked in a little known department of the FBI known as the “SFR” – the department of SuNat/Fae Relations. We were the real x-files. I wished I’d get a cool partner like Mulder or Scully. All mine were damn snacks who were more trouble then they their sorry asses were worth.
Looking up I glared at the speaker. His name was Frank Harris and he was a fellow FBI agent.
“Sorry Frank, but this is a private conversation.” At least he called me Richards, and not Rory. That damn Were finally figured out that I didn’t like him calling me by my first name. Other people could but not him. Yeah, I was prejudice. Frank was a Werewolf. I had no interest in getting to know Werewolves, even ones who said they were nice Werewolves. Frank knew this.
Also, I was not alone at my little table in the corner. Secret Service Agent Brian Samson was sitting with me. We had dated a few times, back when I actually dated, but it hadn’t gone anywhere. I just wasn’t classy enough for the likes of him. The odd thing was he kept asking me out on dates and seeking me out whenever he had business in our building. Like today. It was…weird.
“Who’s this Rory?” Brian looked the FBI agent up and down. Both were good looking, well educated men, with good jobs, who were going places. Neither would leave me alone and neither got the hint. Men were such dumbasses sometimes. At least Brian was human.
“This is Special Agent Frank Harris who’s going to go sit someplace else.”
“Okay, I’ll take a number.” Frank seemed nonplussed as he stood there holding his tray. “Lunch tomorrow then? I want to talk to you before I go on vacation.”
“Um nope.” Frank always wanted to talk to me. His department wanted to borrow me, he wanted to run a scenario by me, he was going to the bar after work with some friends did I want to come, could he have my email address…
“Please, it’s important.”
Now Frank was not a bad guy by any stretch of the imagination. Well, except for the fact that he had more dates than a calendar. I just couldn’t get past the whole fact that he was a Werewolf. I didn’t like them much. Frank wasn’t the only Were with the bureau and I avoided them all.
“The lady said she doesn’t want to speak with you, so could you kindly leave us alone?” Brian had much nicer manners than I did. I might be a woman but I was hardly a lady. My former roommates would attest to that.
“Who are you?” Frank looked the human up and down.
“Brian Samson, Secret Service. Rory and I are having lunch.”
Frank smirked and my fingers itched to smack it right off his good looking face. It wasn’t like it was a lunch date. Brian had hunted me down and sat down since he’d “hate to see a pretty lady sit all alone.” I could sit with my friends Roger and Ron or my co-workers. I just didn’t want to.
“Go away Frank.” If he didn’t move in ten seconds I’d move him. Ten…nine…
“If it’s so important just tell her now.” Brian was the voice of reason. Frank’s look told me it was not something he wanted to discuss in from of Brian, which probably meant it wasn’t something for human ears. I was so not interested.
The Were sighed. “All I need is a few minutes of your time. After work…before work…lunch…whatever.”
I shot him a death glare. I did not want to hear what he wanted to say. I was so hungry. Eating with Brian meant I couldn’t eat as much as usual. I was not human and had a much greater appetite. My friends at least were used to it, especially the ones who knew I wasn’t human.
We were being watched now. Half the bureau was in the cafeteria for lunch today it seemed. Most people know that Rory Richards did not like Frank Harris and that he enjoyed annoying me. But then I did annoy him back, like when I took all his pens and replaced them with ones with the caps glued on. Served him right for ratting me out for stealing someone else’s supplies. In my department we never had enough supplies.
“Please Rory.” First he had to use my first name, even though it bugged me. Second of all he laid a hand on my arm, invading my bubble. I hated to be touched.
That did it. Immediately I stood up and put him in a headlock. Now everyone was watching. Not that they hadn’t seen it before. “Go away Frank.” Maybe this time he’d get the message. He was such a stalker. Releasing him I pushed him away, giving him a death glare for good measure.
Then, as if nothing was wrong I sat back down and picked up my fork. Brian was trying to look horrified, because it was the proper thing to do, but I knew he was amused. A lot of people were amused. After all, Frank was big, and I wasn’t.
I focused my attention on the Secret Service Agent, ignoring both Frank and the buzz around me. “So what were you saying Brian before we were so rudely interrupted?”
Can We Chat -- Part II (Frank’s POV)
© 2008 Suzanne Lazear
It was another day at the FBI. Few people knew it was nearly my last. But I was excited for what lay ahead. The cafeteria was crowded today, like half the Bureau decided to have lunch at the same time.
Taking my tray I scanned the cafeteria for someplace to sit. I also scanned it for someone I needed to talk to…and it wasn’t about FBI business.
After Four and a half years I still didn’t know what made Rory tick – or hate me, aside form the fact that I was a Were and she didn’t like them. She didn’t even like me to call her by name. And if I touched her…
I liked ticking her off, but I was trying to crack her shell. After years of watching and waiting I didn’t know shit. I did know she was a damn fine agent and had the potential to be even more if given a chance. A chance she’d never get working with humans.
Ahh, there she was. The auburn haired beauty was sitting in the corner, probably in a mood. Her latest stunt was the talk of the bureau. I didn’t think anything topped getting banned from the shooting range for shooting a crossbow at other people’s targets.
Sometimes I wondered if the brass didn’t know what she was and what she really could do. After all, she got away with a hell of a lot of shit, but she always got the job done and never got caught. It was awe inspiring.
I wasn’t sure what she was, but I had seen her go against some crazy shit. Her department, the SFR, handed unusual cases. I had finally realized she wasn’t Fae or Celestial. She wasn’t human. That meant she was some kind of SuNat, hence me needing to talk to her. Soon.
Approaching her table I realized she wasn’t alone. She was sitting with some human I’d never seen before. Something about him made me want to growl. Rory didn’t date. Not anymore. Those were some funny stories.
“Hey Richards, mind if I join you?”
Rory gave me a hard stare like she was willing me to drop dead. “Sorry Frank, but this is a private conversation.” Damn she was pretty.
“Who’s this Rory?” The other guy also glared at me. He was not FBI.
“This is Special Agent Frank Harris who’s going to go sit someplace else.” Rory’s voice and expression was tart. She didn’t look happy to be sitting with the other guy. Good.
I smiled. “Okay, I’ll take a number. Lunch tomorrow then? I want to talk to you before I go on vacation.” I couldn’t talk to her with the human present. Hell, I couldn’t talk to her in the cafeteria. Would she let me take her to lunch? Probably not.
“Um nope.”
Dammit. Not that I expected her to say yes. But I was running out of time. D-day was in a few weeks. I was leaving for “vacation” soon. My letter of resignation written.
“Please, it’s important.” I cursed myself for taking to long to ask her. I should have approached her a year ago, or even two. Even if she was Fae she might want in. The Fae weren’t coming out in the great unveiling, but more than a few were helping. Why, I wasn’t sure.
The human bristled. “The lady said she doesn’t want to speak with you, so could you kindly leave us alone?”
I looked him up and down. “Who are you?”
“Brian Samson, Secret Service. Rory and I are having lunch.”
I couldn’t help but smirk. Secret Service? What did she see in him? Why did she date humans anyway? I dated humans because it pissed off my mom.
“Go away Frank.” Rory looked like she was going to hurt me. Whenever I tried to talk to her she inevitably hurt me. Maybe that was why I never tried to recruit her for our side. But damn we could use someone like her. The things I’d heard…
She might not like Weres, but may respected – or were afraid -- of her, especially if they ran illegal pixie-dust houses or lived in West Virginia.
“If it’s so important just tell her now.” The human clearly resented my intrusion.
I sighed. “All I need is a few minutes of your time. After work…before work…lunch…whatever.”
I couldn’t just come out and ask her to not only help me the night the SuNats went on TV and declared their existence to the world, and but to leave the Bureau, move to Seattle and help me in the intelligence department of a brand all-SuNat new agency.
She glared at me again with those unusual hazel eyes of hers. Why did I find her so damn intriguing?
“Please Rory.” Immediately I was in a headlock. What did I do now? Shit. I not only used her first name, but I had reached out and touched her. She hated that. But for some reason I just couldn’t help it. I didn’t just want to touch her, I wanted to pet her. If I didn’t have such good self control…
“Go away Frank.” Everyone was watching. They always did. Gory Rory was highly entertaining. The first time I met her she threw me on my ass.
What could I do? I wasn’t going to win today. But I had her personal email. Email wasn’t the best way. But maybe after reading it she’d come to believe in the cause like I did. I had bragged to Mac that I could get her. She didn’t talk to any of the few SuNats in the bureau or I’d ask for help. I felt like a dumbass.
Rory let me go and with a sigh I picked up my fallen try, ignoring the looks and snickers. Sitting down, she went back to talking to the human.
I wouldn’t give up. Not yet. Maybe she’d surprise me and show up. After all, Rory was full of surprises.
Friday, June 13, 2008
Flash Fiction Friday -- When Frank Met Rory
TGIFFF…Thank god it’s Flash Fiction Friday!
Most of what I right is from a feminine prospective. I liked writing from Frank’s prospective so much when I decided to write about the first time Frank and Rory actually met I decided to do it from Frank’s POV as well. Note: At this point Frank does not realize that Rory Richards is also the girl from the bar in Syracuse. This story takes place about three years after that incident.
When Frank Met Rory
© 2008 Suzanne Lazear
It was just another day at work in the FBI. It was also lunch time.
“Hey Frank, did you see Callahan’s new partner yet?” my co-worker Tom asked as we went though the cafeteria line.
That perked my interest. Ray Callahan was what we called a Super Freak. He and a few others handed the Bureau’s X-Files. Super Freaks worked in pairs, like cops.
His whole department was…different. Human, but different. Ray was a Talent – pure human but with a special gift. I wasn’t sure what his was.
“Nope, not yet.” What was this one? Maybe he recruited a real SuNat to the Department of SuNat and Fae Relations. There were few actual SuNats, Supernaturals, in the FBI. I was one. Mac, the head of the FBI, was another. Tom and Jeff were human and like most humans had no idea what lurked among us.
“Damn is she hot,” Tom added as we paid for our food.
She?
I liked hot women. Hot human women. I didn’t date SuNats – especially Weres, much to the chagrin of my mother. That’s why I did it. The last thing I wanted to do was settle down, take a mate, and follow in my father’s footsteps.
“She’s a little scary,” Jeff added. “I saw her and Roger sparing in the gym yesterday. She kicked his ass.” There was nothing like a hot woman who kicked ass.
As we walked past one table, two fellow agents, Chuck and Rufus, gave me a dirty look. They didn’t like me much. In one of my first assignments I managed to mess up one of their stings. I had a feeling it would haunt me forever. They were part of Mac’s Were pack.
“There they are.” We turned at Tom’s words. Immediately I was attracted.
Holy shit. She was smokin’. The pretty rookie had a rocket body more suited to a lingerie model than an agent. Her straight auburn was cut boyishly.
“Look at that ass Frank.” Jeff gazed appreciatively.
I did like a nice ass. She was wearing tight leather pants and a short leather jacket. Interesting. Maybe she and Ray were doing a sting, busting a Vampire call girl ring or something. She had a great rack too.
“Let’s go say hi.” I grinned wolfishly.
Ray and his new partner were accompanied by his housemates – Roger, Rick, and Ron -- who also worked for the Bureau. Apparently they threw great parties. I never got invited. I had a feeling it was because I was a Were. Ray wasn’t prejudiced, but someone was.
The four of them seemed very protective, like they were her big brothers. She looked just over the Bureau’s minimum age requirement. If even.
“Is she the one?” Tom asked curiously. The five were going though the line.
“What?”
“Yeah, that’s their hot little housemate they were helping to get into the bureau,” Jeff agreed. “Damn she can drink.” Housemate? I knew they had a housemate that was not in the Bureau, but I didn’t realize it was a she.
We walked over to them as they too looked for a table. “Hi Ray!” I was always nice to the Super Freaks. They knew all the good gossip and I never knew when I might need their help.
“Hi Frank.” Ray suddenly got a wary. “Rory, meet Frank Harris, Tom Arquette, and Jeff Hudson. They work in domestic terrorism. Frank, Tom, and Jeff, meet my new partner, Rory Richards.”
Jeff snorted. Rory Richardson was a porn star.
Rory looked at me and nearly dropped her tray. Those hazel eyes flashed with something. Fear. Taking a step closer to Ray she tried to compose herself.
Now it made sense. Rory was afraid of Weres and knew I was one. But I was a nice Were. Especially when it came to pretty women. She looked like she’d be fun.
“Hi Rory, welcome to the Bureau.” I held out a hand to shake. Rory stared at it.
Inconspicuously I sniffed the air. Not human. But it wasn’t something I recognized. Interesting. There were many races that didn’t shake hands.
“Want to come sit with us?” Gently I reached out and touched her arm.
I was not sure why I did that. Weres were reserved when touching people who were not Pack or lovers. Her body language screamed don’t touch. But there was something about her. I could see the shadows on her face, on her soul, like she was a packmate. Rory was not a Were either. She might not even be SuNat.
As soon as my hand made contact she reacted. Very quickly her tray dropped to the floor and I found myself thrown over her shoulder. My tray went flying and I landed on my ass with a thud. Everyone stared.
Okay, someone does not like to be touched. The Fae didn’t like to be touched.
“Don’t touch me. Ever.” Looming over me like an angel of death and destruction she hissed this though gritted teeth. Holy shit she was beautiful when angry.
“Rory.” Ray was at her side, but didn’t touch her. His tone was warning.
Eye flashing she simply glared at him.
“Come on Rory,” Roger told her. “Let’s go find a table.”
With a final glare she turned on the heels of her chunky boots and walked away.
Ray stayed behind and helped me up. “I’m sorry Frank.” His voice was sincere. “Rory has some…issues. If I were you I’d steer clear.” Then he left.
Some issues?
“Are you okay?” Tom asked.
“Yeah I’m fine.” Only my pride was hurt. But I learned something. She was strong and could easily have hurt me. Interesting.
Jeff shook his head. “I told you she was scary.”
My gaze followed her. “She sure is.” That only made her more intriguing. Weres were patient. One day I’d find out what made Rory Richards tick. Until then I’d watch and wait. After all, I was a predator and I always got my prey.
Most of what I right is from a feminine prospective. I liked writing from Frank’s prospective so much when I decided to write about the first time Frank and Rory actually met I decided to do it from Frank’s POV as well. Note: At this point Frank does not realize that Rory Richards is also the girl from the bar in Syracuse. This story takes place about three years after that incident.
When Frank Met Rory
© 2008 Suzanne Lazear
It was just another day at work in the FBI. It was also lunch time.
“Hey Frank, did you see Callahan’s new partner yet?” my co-worker Tom asked as we went though the cafeteria line.
That perked my interest. Ray Callahan was what we called a Super Freak. He and a few others handed the Bureau’s X-Files. Super Freaks worked in pairs, like cops.
His whole department was…different. Human, but different. Ray was a Talent – pure human but with a special gift. I wasn’t sure what his was.
“Nope, not yet.” What was this one? Maybe he recruited a real SuNat to the Department of SuNat and Fae Relations. There were few actual SuNats, Supernaturals, in the FBI. I was one. Mac, the head of the FBI, was another. Tom and Jeff were human and like most humans had no idea what lurked among us.
“Damn is she hot,” Tom added as we paid for our food.
She?
I liked hot women. Hot human women. I didn’t date SuNats – especially Weres, much to the chagrin of my mother. That’s why I did it. The last thing I wanted to do was settle down, take a mate, and follow in my father’s footsteps.
“She’s a little scary,” Jeff added. “I saw her and Roger sparing in the gym yesterday. She kicked his ass.” There was nothing like a hot woman who kicked ass.
As we walked past one table, two fellow agents, Chuck and Rufus, gave me a dirty look. They didn’t like me much. In one of my first assignments I managed to mess up one of their stings. I had a feeling it would haunt me forever. They were part of Mac’s Were pack.
“There they are.” We turned at Tom’s words. Immediately I was attracted.
Holy shit. She was smokin’. The pretty rookie had a rocket body more suited to a lingerie model than an agent. Her straight auburn was cut boyishly.
“Look at that ass Frank.” Jeff gazed appreciatively.
I did like a nice ass. She was wearing tight leather pants and a short leather jacket. Interesting. Maybe she and Ray were doing a sting, busting a Vampire call girl ring or something. She had a great rack too.
“Let’s go say hi.” I grinned wolfishly.
Ray and his new partner were accompanied by his housemates – Roger, Rick, and Ron -- who also worked for the Bureau. Apparently they threw great parties. I never got invited. I had a feeling it was because I was a Were. Ray wasn’t prejudiced, but someone was.
The four of them seemed very protective, like they were her big brothers. She looked just over the Bureau’s minimum age requirement. If even.
“Is she the one?” Tom asked curiously. The five were going though the line.
“What?”
“Yeah, that’s their hot little housemate they were helping to get into the bureau,” Jeff agreed. “Damn she can drink.” Housemate? I knew they had a housemate that was not in the Bureau, but I didn’t realize it was a she.
We walked over to them as they too looked for a table. “Hi Ray!” I was always nice to the Super Freaks. They knew all the good gossip and I never knew when I might need their help.
“Hi Frank.” Ray suddenly got a wary. “Rory, meet Frank Harris, Tom Arquette, and Jeff Hudson. They work in domestic terrorism. Frank, Tom, and Jeff, meet my new partner, Rory Richards.”
Jeff snorted. Rory Richardson was a porn star.
Rory looked at me and nearly dropped her tray. Those hazel eyes flashed with something. Fear. Taking a step closer to Ray she tried to compose herself.
Now it made sense. Rory was afraid of Weres and knew I was one. But I was a nice Were. Especially when it came to pretty women. She looked like she’d be fun.
“Hi Rory, welcome to the Bureau.” I held out a hand to shake. Rory stared at it.
Inconspicuously I sniffed the air. Not human. But it wasn’t something I recognized. Interesting. There were many races that didn’t shake hands.
“Want to come sit with us?” Gently I reached out and touched her arm.
I was not sure why I did that. Weres were reserved when touching people who were not Pack or lovers. Her body language screamed don’t touch. But there was something about her. I could see the shadows on her face, on her soul, like she was a packmate. Rory was not a Were either. She might not even be SuNat.
As soon as my hand made contact she reacted. Very quickly her tray dropped to the floor and I found myself thrown over her shoulder. My tray went flying and I landed on my ass with a thud. Everyone stared.
Okay, someone does not like to be touched. The Fae didn’t like to be touched.
“Don’t touch me. Ever.” Looming over me like an angel of death and destruction she hissed this though gritted teeth. Holy shit she was beautiful when angry.
“Rory.” Ray was at her side, but didn’t touch her. His tone was warning.
Eye flashing she simply glared at him.
“Come on Rory,” Roger told her. “Let’s go find a table.”
With a final glare she turned on the heels of her chunky boots and walked away.
Ray stayed behind and helped me up. “I’m sorry Frank.” His voice was sincere. “Rory has some…issues. If I were you I’d steer clear.” Then he left.
Some issues?
“Are you okay?” Tom asked.
“Yeah I’m fine.” Only my pride was hurt. But I learned something. She was strong and could easily have hurt me. Interesting.
Jeff shook his head. “I told you she was scary.”
My gaze followed her. “She sure is.” That only made her more intriguing. Weres were patient. One day I’d find out what made Rory Richards tick. Until then I’d watch and wait. After all, I was a predator and I always got my prey.
Friday, June 6, 2008
Flash Fiction Friday -- Steven’s Requiem
What is Flash Fiction ?
Flash Fiction is a very short story (under 1000 words). Unlike a vignette it actually has the basic elements of a story.
What’s Flash Fiction Friday?
I often use Flash Fiction and Short Stories to flesh out characters, often writing in detail about past events that are mentioned in my stories. Flash Fiction Friday is where I share one of them with you.
Can I request a specific Flash Fiction?
Um, sure. But I can’t promise to fulfill your request.
Today’s Flash Fiction is about Frank, my second favorite character to write. Frank’s a tough as nails agent with a master’s in psychology. This was written to flesh out “the drunken karaoke incident in Syracuse” which is referenced in one of my stories. The red head is Rory, my favorite character. It will be a few years though before those two actually meet.
Steven’s Requiem
© 2008 Suzanne Lazear
Today was a shitty day. Two years ago today my younger brother Steven had been brutally murdered on the orders of the mob boss he had been investigating. A rookie cop for the Syracuse Police Department, Steven got in over his head trying to right the wrongs of the world. He paid for it with his life.
I missed him. A year apart, we more like twins than brothers. He even graduated early so we could go to Yale together. After school he left for the SPD while I got a masters degree. I planned to join him after graduation.
That never happened.
Now I was in the FBI. One day I would find the bastard who ordered my brother’s death. Then, I would kill him.
Taking today off I visited his grave and the site where he died. I even visited my mother. I avoided my father.
Now I was at the bar, drinking to his memory, waiting for Joe. My best friend Joe grew up with us, went to Yale with us, and was also SPD.
Until then I drank alone. It was a local spot, just this side of seedy. But the bartender knew what kind of beer I drank, and left me alone to drink away my misery.
A noisy group of strangers walked in. They were quite the assortment ranging from two blonde men and a dark haired woman, who looked vaguely familiar, to a very large olive skinned man with wiry black hair who I would not want to meet in a dark alley.
The group sat down at a table. The two blonde men were teaching a young beauty to play darts. As I drank my beer, I couldn’t help but watch them.
The pretty woman playing darts intrigued me. I was glad Joe was running late. Despite the drinks she put back, she did not look twenty one. My straight laced friend would probably make it his business to check her ID.
Her auburn hair was long, thick, and wavy – the kind of hair you could wrap your hands in. There was something odd about her body language – it was both familiar and unfamiliar, out of context, like smelling pizza at a steak house. It went with her attitude which was half that of a girl who saw too much too young, and half the wonder and innocence of someone who’d been terribly sheltered.
Then there was her body itself…
All I could say was…holy shit. She was at least a d-cup, with a nice round ass and a tiny waist, like some 1950’s pin-up girl. Yet there was something about her that seemed…feral…haunted…vulnerable…
She kept looking over her shoulder like she had something to fear.
Several times she got very angry. Occasionally the olive skinned man or the dark haired woman would calm her down. Her eyes would flash with anger and her jaw would lock. She was even more beautiful when angry.
The bar had a karaoke set up in the corner and occasionally someone would make a fool of themselves. Her group discovered it. They weren’t that bad. At least their version of I’ve Got Friends in Low Places was on key.
Someone tried to get the redhead to go up by herself and an argument ensued. Finally the blond man with the short hair dragged her up. She didn’t seem happy about it. The woman with the long dark hair looked on with relish. The wiry haired man had a video camera.
The music started and you could hear the room collectively sigh. Every woman seemed to sing that song and butchered nine times out of ten. Recognizing the tune the red head flipped her friends off. The dark haired woman grinned, and flashed two back.
Closing her eyes the red head nervously began to sing. I had no idea how a woman who played darts, drank like a fish, swore like a sailor, and had a body that would make Miss December jealous, could have a voice like that. She wasn’t a saucy belter, no she had a sweet and lilting soprano. Soprano aside, I swear she gave every man in the room a hard on with her version of the Divinyl’s I Touch Myself.
The blonde man stayed up there, singing harmony, but it was unobtrusive. This was her song. About a verse in, she got more confidant and opened her eyes. She never did any real suggestive dancing like so many women did, but she didn’t need it.
When she finished everyone applauded. Drunkenness aside she nailed the entire damn song, every note. She ran off the stage and proceeded drink until she passed out.
I wished I could do that. Where was Joe? After a few more songs the visitors left, the large olive skinned man carrying out the red head.
Finally my phone rang. It was Joe and he was outside with the car. “Sorry Frank, I got stuck at work.” That was Joe for you, work first. “You’re probably too drunk to drive.” I was probably too drunk to stand. “So come out front, get in and I’ll take you to my place.” I had tomorrow off too.
Paying my rather large tab and saying goodbye to the bartender I staggered out of the bar. Joe was waiting in his Jeep and I got in.
For a moment I felt guilty. I was supposed to go to the bar and drink for Steven, but I spent most of the time entranced by the under-aged redhead.
Then I realized that it was the prefect requiem for Steven. Had he been there, he would have hit on her. Hell, another day I would have hit on her. That body was smokin'. There was something about her…
“Sorry about that bro,” Joe told me apologetically as we drove away.
I couldn’t get that performance out of my head, that body, that voice. “It’s alright Joe, you didn’t miss a damn thing.”
Flash Fiction is a very short story (under 1000 words). Unlike a vignette it actually has the basic elements of a story.
What’s Flash Fiction Friday?
I often use Flash Fiction and Short Stories to flesh out characters, often writing in detail about past events that are mentioned in my stories. Flash Fiction Friday is where I share one of them with you.
Can I request a specific Flash Fiction?
Um, sure. But I can’t promise to fulfill your request.
Today’s Flash Fiction is about Frank, my second favorite character to write. Frank’s a tough as nails agent with a master’s in psychology. This was written to flesh out “the drunken karaoke incident in Syracuse” which is referenced in one of my stories. The red head is Rory, my favorite character. It will be a few years though before those two actually meet.
Steven’s Requiem
© 2008 Suzanne Lazear
Today was a shitty day. Two years ago today my younger brother Steven had been brutally murdered on the orders of the mob boss he had been investigating. A rookie cop for the Syracuse Police Department, Steven got in over his head trying to right the wrongs of the world. He paid for it with his life.
I missed him. A year apart, we more like twins than brothers. He even graduated early so we could go to Yale together. After school he left for the SPD while I got a masters degree. I planned to join him after graduation.
That never happened.
Now I was in the FBI. One day I would find the bastard who ordered my brother’s death. Then, I would kill him.
Taking today off I visited his grave and the site where he died. I even visited my mother. I avoided my father.
Now I was at the bar, drinking to his memory, waiting for Joe. My best friend Joe grew up with us, went to Yale with us, and was also SPD.
Until then I drank alone. It was a local spot, just this side of seedy. But the bartender knew what kind of beer I drank, and left me alone to drink away my misery.
A noisy group of strangers walked in. They were quite the assortment ranging from two blonde men and a dark haired woman, who looked vaguely familiar, to a very large olive skinned man with wiry black hair who I would not want to meet in a dark alley.
The group sat down at a table. The two blonde men were teaching a young beauty to play darts. As I drank my beer, I couldn’t help but watch them.
The pretty woman playing darts intrigued me. I was glad Joe was running late. Despite the drinks she put back, she did not look twenty one. My straight laced friend would probably make it his business to check her ID.
Her auburn hair was long, thick, and wavy – the kind of hair you could wrap your hands in. There was something odd about her body language – it was both familiar and unfamiliar, out of context, like smelling pizza at a steak house. It went with her attitude which was half that of a girl who saw too much too young, and half the wonder and innocence of someone who’d been terribly sheltered.
Then there was her body itself…
All I could say was…holy shit. She was at least a d-cup, with a nice round ass and a tiny waist, like some 1950’s pin-up girl. Yet there was something about her that seemed…feral…haunted…vulnerable…
She kept looking over her shoulder like she had something to fear.
Several times she got very angry. Occasionally the olive skinned man or the dark haired woman would calm her down. Her eyes would flash with anger and her jaw would lock. She was even more beautiful when angry.
The bar had a karaoke set up in the corner and occasionally someone would make a fool of themselves. Her group discovered it. They weren’t that bad. At least their version of I’ve Got Friends in Low Places was on key.
Someone tried to get the redhead to go up by herself and an argument ensued. Finally the blond man with the short hair dragged her up. She didn’t seem happy about it. The woman with the long dark hair looked on with relish. The wiry haired man had a video camera.
The music started and you could hear the room collectively sigh. Every woman seemed to sing that song and butchered nine times out of ten. Recognizing the tune the red head flipped her friends off. The dark haired woman grinned, and flashed two back.
Closing her eyes the red head nervously began to sing. I had no idea how a woman who played darts, drank like a fish, swore like a sailor, and had a body that would make Miss December jealous, could have a voice like that. She wasn’t a saucy belter, no she had a sweet and lilting soprano. Soprano aside, I swear she gave every man in the room a hard on with her version of the Divinyl’s I Touch Myself.
The blonde man stayed up there, singing harmony, but it was unobtrusive. This was her song. About a verse in, she got more confidant and opened her eyes. She never did any real suggestive dancing like so many women did, but she didn’t need it.
When she finished everyone applauded. Drunkenness aside she nailed the entire damn song, every note. She ran off the stage and proceeded drink until she passed out.
I wished I could do that. Where was Joe? After a few more songs the visitors left, the large olive skinned man carrying out the red head.
Finally my phone rang. It was Joe and he was outside with the car. “Sorry Frank, I got stuck at work.” That was Joe for you, work first. “You’re probably too drunk to drive.” I was probably too drunk to stand. “So come out front, get in and I’ll take you to my place.” I had tomorrow off too.
Paying my rather large tab and saying goodbye to the bartender I staggered out of the bar. Joe was waiting in his Jeep and I got in.
For a moment I felt guilty. I was supposed to go to the bar and drink for Steven, but I spent most of the time entranced by the under-aged redhead.
Then I realized that it was the prefect requiem for Steven. Had he been there, he would have hit on her. Hell, another day I would have hit on her. That body was smokin'. There was something about her…
“Sorry about that bro,” Joe told me apologetically as we drove away.
I couldn’t get that performance out of my head, that body, that voice. “It’s alright Joe, you didn’t miss a damn thing.”
Thursday, June 5, 2008
It's official!
I’ve always liked to write. I have notebooks full of stories I’ve written over the years. Some are good, some are dreadful. I’ve even tried to write a few novels.
I never finished them.
A year and a half ago I decided to get serious about novel writing. In 2007 I was going to write and finish a novel. I wrote four.
Now it’s 2008. I’ve written five Urban Fantasy Novels. One’s all nice and shiny, the others are getting there. I have a world and characters I love and other projects in the works. Every day I continue to learn and grow.
But you see I have this fear of rejection…
Then again, don’t we all?
After a year of procrastinating, I bit the bullet and actually sent out my very first two agent queries on Friday.
Yesterday, it became official. I am now a real aspiring author. I got my first reject email from an agent yesterday my manuscript. I was actually a little surprised that it came so quickly. The brief but kind email basically tells me I need to make sure I do my research. Rewriting my query probably wouldn’t hurt either.
Anyway, I think I’m going to frame it.
I never finished them.
A year and a half ago I decided to get serious about novel writing. In 2007 I was going to write and finish a novel. I wrote four.
Now it’s 2008. I’ve written five Urban Fantasy Novels. One’s all nice and shiny, the others are getting there. I have a world and characters I love and other projects in the works. Every day I continue to learn and grow.
But you see I have this fear of rejection…
Then again, don’t we all?
After a year of procrastinating, I bit the bullet and actually sent out my very first two agent queries on Friday.
Yesterday, it became official. I am now a real aspiring author. I got my first reject email from an agent yesterday my manuscript. I was actually a little surprised that it came so quickly. The brief but kind email basically tells me I need to make sure I do my research. Rewriting my query probably wouldn’t hurt either.
Anyway, I think I’m going to frame it.
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