So … I’m supposed to be writing Amplifier 5. Instead, needing to work on something playful (with a whole lot of bite) and distracting, I wrote the opening scene for Misfits of the Adept Universe – book 2. No release date yet, but I’ll probably keep working on it for the next while.
I tugged at the stiff collar of my light blue dress shirt, trying to ignore the miasma of scents emanating from the crowd gathered around the international arrivals gate at the Vancouver Airport.
The guy nearest me had just come in from the parking lot dragging the scent of asphalt, gasoline, and a lingering crispness with him. The woman rocking her kid in a stroller, cradling flowers in her free arm, was way too fond of pineapple and coconut. It was in her skin cream and conditioner. Well, fake coconut and pineapple. The bartender in the open bar behind me pulled draught after draught of pilsner and amber ale for the customers lining the bar stools and the waitstaff slinging burgers and garlic-riddled Caesar salad.
Three days from the December full moon, aka the Cold Moon, and my skin was already itching under the suit I’d been forced to stuff myself in.
Apparently, it wasn’t appropriate for the head of security for a shapeshifter summit to wear a sports bra, leggings, and an obscenely printed T-shirt while on duty. I’d capitulated on the clothing — finding a black pant suit with as much lycra as possible and pairing it with shiny zippered ankle boots that added a much needed three inches to my height — but I refused to dye my currently florescent pink hair back to its natural mousy brown.
And there was no way I was removing the ridiculously-out-of-place runed-etched, raw diamond gold cuffs that perpetually adorned my wrists. The Wolf’s Bracers, the Adept snobs were prone to calling them. I’d deliberately rolled up the sleeves of the dress shirt and the jacket to display the artifacts. Even though doing so made me look like I was posing for the cover for some fashion magazine. Not that I was pretty enough to actually book such gig. My nose too slim and straight, jaw too angular, and teeth too pointy to pull print media off.
Okay, so, the teeth only got pointy when I was being nasty.
I adored being nasty.
But only when someone pissed me off.
Which was, admittedly, often.
How the hell had I wound up being the head of security for this stupid wedding and pack status hearing?
Right.
My lord and alpha, and the head of the Godfrey coven, had conspired against me.
– untitled, Misfits 2, first draft
