In theory, I am now home from Italy, but I’m setting up another WiP Wednesday post because I’m sure jet lag owns my ass right now. Here we go, more vampire fun.
Okay, so I’ve mentioned several times that Liam is the first in a series. This is currently called The Family because, while these vampires aren’t particularly clannish, the events in Liam start a chain reaction that lead to, naturally, a lot of blood and mayhem. But there’s also another force working to bring them together in a way that isn’t terribly natural to lone killers. It has its own reasons for making a family of them. That’s another story for another time. (Meaning, of course, book four or five.)
The second book is called James, the title hero being Liam’s little brother. Yeah, woo, you heard it here first! Well, at least, those of you who haven’t been listening to it for the last decade heard it here first. James has some issues that are hinted at in Liam’s book, and that come to a head three years later in his own. They sort of force big brother’s hand about that whole coming out thing.
So here’s a little snippet from my rewrite, which I’ve been pecking away at intermittently for some months now. Unseen by editorial eyes, so this is me in my proverbial writer underwear. Here’s James. Ta-dah!
“Yes. I’m coming. And I’m going to watch you vamp the fuck out on someone. And then I’ll be sure you’re not out of your goddamn mind, and I’m not out of my goddamn mind, and I can get on with deciding if I want to hate you or not.”
So sensitive for a monster, right? Next thing, he’d be crying into his blood wine and eating rats or some stupid shit.
But even while I was making up these mean, sarcastic scenarios in my head, the truth was that my heart fucking ached. All I could think of were all those nights he’d kept me from crying. All the times I’d come to him and he’d made me feel better. All the secrets and laughs and, I mean, eighteen years of him being a dependable bright spot in — okay, my life hadn’t been a bad one so far, but there had definitely been rough, dark patches.
My point is that most kids scream for their mother when they have nightmares. I screamed for Liam.
I fucking loved him. This guy.
This unrepentant monster. He never apologized to me, never even looked sorry. Oh, about upsetting me, sure. But not about the murder.
So, fine. Bring it, monster boy.
He sighed. “James. I don’t — Fuck, I’m sorry. I never thought you’d have to know.”
“That’s supposed to make me feel better? Knowing you planned to lie to me my whole life? Really?”
Another wince. “You really want to do this?”
“No, I do not fucking want to do this. I want it all to be a bad dream, this and the last three years of mass fuckery. But it’s not, so I’m gonna do it anyhow, and you’re gonna help me and like it, you prick.”
He clicked his keychain. The car unlocked.
And we endured the most awkward fifteen minutes in the car ever.
Normal service should resume soon. Thank you for enduring my random ass WiP rambles this month, but I couldn’t bear the thought of the blog being barren, and all my vacations are working vacations, with loudmouths like this in my head. <3