There were
exactly two things Nate Warren loathed: canceled movie times and Sam's need to
solve all problems by playing rock, paper, scissors. Both were a waste of his
time.
Nevertheless,
fist sitting in the palm of his hand, Sam West had a cocky grin on his face as
he tried to incite a round of the game. Tall, lean, and muscular with the
personality of a Labrador, Sam was a curious mix of both terrifying and jovial
in a way that was almost unreal at times. He built his entire personality
around trying to appear inviting and unintimidating. It worked most of the
time. There were times the electric blues in his eyes were a little too steely
to be considered friendly. Sometimes he let himself go from stress and
frustration. The neatness in his golden chestnut hair turned disastrous and the
state of his beard grew unruly. It was in those times the real Sam West came
out, and the world needed to watch out. The real Sam West wasn't the
money-wasting, woman-chasing lawyer most people saw.
No, the real
Sam West was a descendant of Gabriel imbued with extraordinary strength. He was
faster, stronger, and spent his life punching his way through every obstacle in
his path.
"Come
on," Sam said, drawing out the two words as his grin grew wider. "You
know you want to."
"It's a
banshee, Sam!" he repeated, his voice transitioning with a mocking Irish
accent. "It's just a wee bit of trouble! No need for games!"
"I'm
British, you idiot, not Irish."
"How is
it you're adopted and raised in Arizona and you're still stuffy like a Brit? Was four years over there really enough
to develop the personality?"
"First
off, stereotyping," Nate snapped. "Second, it's not being stuffy if I
don't want to play rock, paper, scissors before we kill a demon."
"Fine,
then you be bait." Sam shrugged. "Problem solved."
"No,
no." He shook his head quickly. "I don't want to be bait."
"I don't want to be bait either for a screaming bitch, but how in the world are we going to solve this problem?" he asked, grinning once again. Nate sighed, shaking his head. There was little point in arguing with Sam. Sam West always got what Sam West wanted. That was a general fact of life. Reluctantly, he put a fist out, and a stupid grin overtook Sam's face. "That's my boy! One last time before we leave! For Arizona."
Fist-over-hand,
Sam mouthed one through three before they tossed out their choices.
Two rocks.
Sam made a face and nodded, counting again.
One rock, one paper."I win," Nate said. "You get to be bait."
"I'm
far too pretty to be anyone's bait," Sam retorted. Reaching under the
neckline of his shirt, he pulled out a golden cross and handed it to Nate.
"Hold this, will you?"
The power flux made him smirk.
Nate watched with silent envy as his best friend tested his power, tendrils of golden light moving along his arms. Unlike Sam, Nate had no power. Adopted at four, his father had found him in an orphanage for hunters hidden in the British countryside. There was no information about his parents other than they were hunters. No one even knew of what lineage. While other hunters gained their power during puberty, Nate never did. He possessed the latent attributes all hunters had to help with healing and stamina in battle, but that was it.He was as
ordinary as he could be, and he hated it.
There was no
use for an ordinary person in a world full of demons, magic, and special
powers.
"I can't hit a banshee, can I?" Sam asked, drawing Nate back into the moment.
"I
mean, you could," Nate said as
he made a face. They stood outside an old house with broken windows and gutted
insides. He glanced through a broken window, surveying the situation. Floating
from room to room, the banshee paced back and forth. Rags hung off its thin
body, and its skin sunken and ashy. Bloodshot eyes scanned the room while a
pitiful wail passed through its lips on repeat. For something so pathetic in
appearance, he knew it was truly dangerous if it wanted to be. He whispered,
"I really don't think that'll end well for you."
Reaching in
his pocket, he pulled out a box of earplugs and handed one to Sam.
"Hey, Nate," Sam began with a stupid grin. Nate resisted rolling his eyes, recognizing the expression immediately. "Did you hear the story about the banshee at sea?"
"Probably
not."
"Fine."
Nate sighed heavily. "No, Sam, I didn't hear about the banshee at
sea."
"Really?
Because it's a wail of a tale," he replied, chuckling at his own joke
while Nate groaned. "Oh, come on! That was a good one."
"No,
that was awful." He removed his gun from his holster, checking it once
more. The last thing he wanted was to be unprepared. A jammed gun was a dead
hunter. "How do you plan on baiting it?"
"I'm
going to give her what every angry woman needs: a little bit of Sam West,"
Sam said as he backed through an open doorway.
"That's
the last thing any angry woman wants," Nate replied.
"Can't
hear you," Sam told him, pointing to his ears as he shoved the earplugs
in. Whirling on the balls of his feet, he walked right into the heart of the
house. "Hey! Gorgeous! Let me see you smile!"
"Oh,
son of a bitch," he muttered and quickly plugged his ears.
The world
plunged into complete silence just in time for him to see the banshee swoop
down on Sam. The air visibly moved with its scream, and it sent Sam flying
through a wall with no hope of fighting it.
Nate lost
sight of him.
3 comments:
Promising, promising 😍
the excerpt sounds very interesting
The book sounds great
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