WIPWordSearch Excerpts March 2024 Week 1

He #lay there for a moment, panting, but the shade did little against the morning sun’s glow. Desperate to escape the light and pain, he scrambled up the wide stairs toward the chapel doors.

Were it not for Lawrence’s #lead, Thomas might have passed by the Red Lightning Pub without noticing it. If the poor upkeep of the bar was any indication, he was certain not many potential customers existed for the place.

He thunked against the door and bounced back. Frowning, he stared at the doorknob. Had Artemis actually #locked her door? She never did that, even when she was out. But the knob had twisted, and he thought she’d complained about her deadbolt being broken.

The woman glowed in the dim lighting of the bar, her honey-colored hair fell #loose around her shoulders, and she had a warm skin tone dotted with occasional freckles.

“With that definition, I guess it makes sense when people say serial killers have #lost their humanity, although they’re still technically human, or homosapien.”

“Lawrence,” Thomas whispered, unable to #look away from new pink skin on his hand. “You’ve got a lot of explaining to do.”

Mirrors #lined all the walls, making the room seem larger, and next to each chair was an assortment of medical equipment, including needles, white gloves, and IV drips.

It looked exactly like a blood bank.

The puncture wounds on her arm were the worst—the small ones were easily recognizable as heroin track marks, but some #larger puncture wounds were more unusual, as if something had bitten her then been ripped away.

The wolf was content, and Clara could see again. The deer #lay dead before her, its carcass ripped open. A bloody cavity exposed where its heart had been. The wolf had succeeded. The curse was appeased.

She vaulted over the back of the sofa where she’d been standing and bounced over to Clara and Benjamin. She was sporting a faded old #Led Zeppelin t-shirt and ragged jeans.

“Don’t worry.” Donald grinned. “It’s not hard. The wolf’s belly will be full, and it’ll be tired. You’ll slip in easily. Once everyone has fed, you can #lock it up.”

The hunger was appeased. The wolf was the weakest it would be all month. It would take a major break in concentration to #lose her hold on her body now.

“Alive?” Clara spat. Fury, disgust, pain, betrayal, #loss. There were so many conflicting emotions swirling inside she wasn’t sure if she was going to scream, cry, or vomit. “He . . . he . . . he . . .”

“Hey! #Look what the wolf dragged in,” a thick Scottish accent called from the minibar.

Panicking, Clara scanned her leg for the damage. Stretching from her hip to her knee was a #line of claw marks.

The windows were intentionally painted black, but the rest of the building was a mottled gray color, with years of grime making the thick, uneven coat of filth blotchy, interrupted only by the #large, greasy brass knob of the door handle and a rotting store sign above the door.