I’m doing a call for beta readers today and posted the general blurbs in a list here. I didn’t have excerpts for all of them so the four that need excerpts are being posted today so people can read those and decide if they want to try the short story.
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“I’m trying not to be pissed that you guys are going to the wedding of the biggest sociopath the legal profession has ever seen.” I snorted. “Which is sure as hell saying something.”
“Good, get it out. Deal with your emotions,” Faye said.
“I’m going to be a lawyer, I don’t have emotions.” I gulped. “Don’t shrink me.”
“You’re too short for me to shrink you.”
“Ha.”
Thump!
I jumped, grabbing my necklace again, knees shaking. Goddess, I was a wreck! There were kids and wind outside, and no reason to think the thump was bad. And even if it was, with magic and a gun, what couldn’t I take down?
“Merow.” Missy ran straight at me and I stumbled back into the wall. She hit the throw rug a foot from me, sending it sliding two feet, used it to get traction, and turned to shoot back into the living room.
I sagged against the wall, heart pounding. “Your cat is a menace.” I sighed. “If he’s ready to settle down and get married and all that, why not me?” Goddess, I was being pathetic!
“And you get to think that. You get to be upset.” Faye paused. “We’ve got to go. Watch TV, study, have a glass of wine. Relax. Okay?”
Scratch, scratch, scratchscratchscratch, came from the front door, making me cringe. Bad kitty!
“Okay.” We said bye and I upped the TV volume, sat on the couch and grabbed the book on top of the pile of blue Bar Exam study books I’d brought.
“I could curse him.” I glanced down at my book, tapping my finger on the pages. “Impotence? That’s a classic. A curse would probably constitute crazy.”
Scratch, scratch, scratchscratchscratchscratch.
I jumped off the couch. “So does that, Missy.” I stomped to the door. “You have a cat door! You can get in.” I threw the deadbolt and yanked the door open. “Crazy fluff-”
“Argggg.” The man outside lunged at me, swinging a meaty fist in haymaker that’d leave me a pumpkin if it landed. I jumped back on pure instinct, bumping into the couch’s arm before I even registered there was a person there. I scrambled to the side and back.
Wet dirt came off him like cologne and something like meat spoiling in the fridge. Cold, rotting, but not growing friends just yet. I recognized the smell before my eyes caught up and transferred what I was looking at.
He was sallow under the heavy makeup and his black wool suit hung too loose on him. Like he’d lost weight before he died. And he was most certainly dead.
Zombie, flashed through my head as I shook it. That was crazy. There weren’t vampires, werewolves, or freaking zombies! Except… zombies weren’t originally stories made up to scare children. They were based in real voodoo. Not my religion, but, but… possible.
We’d know if there were ways to make zombies, right? The Council would’ve told us.
He lunged at me again, teeth bared and fists raised and I screamed, pulling my tiny gun from my hip and pointing it towards him.
“Argggggggggg,” fetid breath washed over me as he swung at my arm.
I ducked and shot, the ping of a magically suppressed bullet surprising him into stillness for a second and not doing much else as the bullet buried itself in the doorjamb.
Fire.
I focused all my mental energy on him, willing the life force in his body to turn against itself, to make the molecules speed and burst. Fire kills zombies, right?. Magic rushed out of me in a huff of energy, leaving me sagging and exhausted, but at least he was…
Standing there.
The man looked at me, confusion painting his face.
My magic doesn’t work on him!
“Argggggggggggg!” He leapt at me, suit clad arms swinging.
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