Below is the first chapter of my upcoming novel (which will very most likey not be finished for Megacon, for those that were interested[Yay, I have more than one follower now!]). Since the first excerpt I put on the blog is no longer a legitimate part in the book, I thought I'd fess up something recent. I know I'd talked about a sequal at one point... Well, that may not happen after all. Silvy Brown is a recurring character through the rest of my books (excluding Diomond Heels), but unless I decide otherwise about the sequal to Wolf Prints, will not be starring in her own. Instead, after the publishing of Wolf Prints, I am leaning all my efforts into "The Hive." I am very much looking forward to that one. Anyway, enjoy the first, albeit short, chapter to Wolf Prints.
Chapter One
Churning madly in the belly of the midnight sky, copious, black clouds wrestled each other with terrible vehemence. Thrashing one way then pounding to the opposite, each fragment of storm slammed into the other, throwing jagged strings of fire to the ground with a deafening bellow. The tumult increased as the storm clouds smashed their bulbous frames into the soft underbellies of their fellows. With a rip and a tear, the bottoms of the contenders shredded open, dropping sheets of flailing raindrops to cascade down to earth where they would slap gruelly against the ground.
The pelting rain beat harshly down on the head of Drake Everacre as he stood broodingly in the middle of the puddle-littered street. So this was Titusville, Florida: the stupid little town he was called to protect. He scanned the houses on either side of him, lined neatly in rows along the road. The little homes were what some would call cute; pastel colored walls complimented red or white doors that, of course, contained a hospitable little window in each. Overgrown bushes grew congruently on each side of the garage of one home, and wild Indian Blanket were unashamedly cluttering the lawn of another.
Drake rolled his eyes at the red and yellow tie-dyed petals. It was probably some middle-aged, unmarried woman that dwelled there, insisting that the Indian Blanket was not just a weed to destroy because it flowered and was pretty -like an Indian’s blanket.
"Stupid fool." Drake muttered. "It's just a weed."
The downpour ceased as the warring clouds dissipated, and Drake shook the water from his shaggy, dark brown hair. Taking a deep breath and letting it out again, he strode down the street. The crescent moon came out from behind a wisp of cloud, making the water droplets rolling off his bare chest glisten. He circled the subdivision a couple of times before stopping again not far from where he had begun.
All around him, ceramic alligators, UCF banners, and pro-military bumper stickers vied for attention, trying to proclaim the residence’s individuality. However, no one here was really special. One neighbor was no different than the other.
He sighed and shook his head disapprovingly, then turned away and headed down an adjoining street. The moon hid itself again, but that didn't bother Drake; he could see very well in the dark. He certainly saw well enough to find the house he was looking for, and he stepped onto the porch to ring the doorbell.
A long, groggy, face greeted him a minute later, drool still seeping from between the lips. "Dude... it's like, 3am. I thought you weren't gonna come."
Drake shrugged and rolled his eyes. "I'm sorry I'm late, Cody. I hope I didn't wake you." He eyed his friend's oversized Orlando Magic jersey and baggy high school gym shorts.
Cody stepped back to let Drake inside, then closed and locked the door behind them. "Just be glad you didn't wake up the Mom-inator, man. We'd both be dead."
"I seriously doubt that." Drake strode through the living room and plopped his wet body down on the couch.
This time Cody stared at Drakes outfit, consisting minimally of soaked jean shorts and soggy Nike tennis shoes -without socks. "Didn't you bring anything with you? Tell me you didn't come from Chicago with just yourself!" "I didn't have time to pack."
Cody let out his breath in a low whistle. "Man, you're a case. Mom's gonna flip. Why'd you come in such a hurry, anyway?"
"Why do you care?" Drake frowned, trying to get Cody to drop the subject. He didn't much like the guy, not that this piece of conversation was privy to very many, as it was.
"Maybe because I'm the one you're living with for the next few months. Ring a bell?" Cody huffed, and then he stared at Drake in a new light. "Dude, you're not running from the law, are you? 'Cause if you are, I can't harbor you here, man. My record's clean, for what it's worth. I don't wanna mess that up, or I'll never get my license. Mom says one screw up, and that's it until I'm eighteen!"
"You mean you're not driving by yourself yet?" Drake raised an unimpressed eyebrow.
Cody crossed his arms defensively. "If you had my mother, you'd understand. Seriously, though, I have to know what you're up to. Are you being chased by the cops, or what?"
"No, Cody, I am not in trouble -in any way- with the law. Are you happy?" Drake glared with one open eye at his prying host. The other he kept closed in hopes that Cody would let him sleep.
Cody kept staring at him, trying to decide if he would trust his old friend. Finally, a stoop to his shoulders revealed to Drake that he had relented. "Okay. Whatever. See you in the morning, first thing. With the coordination of your dad, Mom took the liberty of enrolling you into Astronaut High School." Drake growled deep in his throat and rolled his face into the pillow Cody threw at him. That was just about right. Dad had always been insistent about his son's education, and Cody's broad was even worse. He supposed there was no getting out of it if he still wanted to sleep indoors. "Good night, Cody." He snapped.
"Whatever, Drake." Cody trudged to his own room and shut the door. Drake could hear him fall onto his bed, then nothing more.
Then Drake himself closed his eyes and passed out of consciousness.
