WIPWordSearch Excerpts December 2023 Week 4

A man in his early forties stood up from a chair nearby and grinned, his lips pulling wide and flashing a perfect set of teeth, brown eyes sparkling and concerned. He wore a three-#piece suit and fancy hat as if he’d materialized from a film noir movie.

The only sign of any injury at all were two, dark spots on the otherwise pale flesh of his hand. Dark bruises marked where his assailant’s teeth had #pierced his skin.

A sound like thunder rumbled through the air, rattling in his head. Thomas’ eyes bulged. It wasn’t thunder. It was a growl. Thomas reacted on #pure instinct.

Thomas spun around and sprinted through the trees.

Thomas shook his head. “I don’t know,” he said. “Someone that wasn’t all there. He—” Thomas broke off before he let it slip the attacker had bitten him. Thomas glanced at Artemis. He was skirting the details, and hoped Artemis wouldn’t #press him.

“It’s not skillful negotiations or honor that enforces these treaties. It is fear, #plain and simple,” Sara said. “Fear our secrets will be revealed to humanity. For all our power, for all our might, we are few and they are many.”

He needed the water; he had at least a good half hour of walking to get to his apartment. The thirst needed to be quenched. Now.

The nineteen-year-old boy at the register shot Thomas a suspicious glance as he shakily #put a huge water bottle on the counter.

He’d already told her this, but he didn’t know where else to begin. Artemis waited patiently, but her heartbeat increased. Thomas #paused as he listened to her heart. Excitement rushed through him, and he fought against the building desire for her blood.

She still wasn’t entirely sure what had happened. The night was a tapestry made of bits and #pieces threaded together by overwhelming terror. Clara heard screaming from her tent and scrambled out to see blood.

The police had never been able to figure out what happened that night at Mack’s Eats. It was easy to see the poor old cook had been killed by a switchblade that had #pierced his heart. But his was the only body that was easy to identify—the eight other corpses had been torn to pieces.

Mentally, Clara felt herself become a creature of #pure emotion, one that was not weighed down by complexities, woes, or future worries.

“Is the city safe?” Clara #pressed, her voice tight as a piano wire.

The smile didn’t fall from the Crone’s lips as she replied.

“Why, pup, the city is never safe.”

That was why, of all Jericho’s nicknames, the one that circulated the most was “Eternal Jericho.”

The moniker was being #put to the test.

“Benji, stay with the pack tonight.” She #paused to search his eyes, but his expression was cloaked in the forest’s darkness. “Please. If Donald’s worried, we should be, too.”

Benjamin nodded and pushed forward.