I’m at a short (very) lull between editing two projects. So, I started getting together thoughts for my next The Griffin Wars book, I Am Phoenix. I’ve tried different beginnings, different plot lines and I think I finally found it. I actually have the first couple pages roughed out.
Wanna read part of it? Okay, since you seem excited about it too, here it is:
Life poured into me and I opened my eyes to the inky well of a starless night. As always in times like this, it took me awhile to get my bearings. To understand that I’d died. Again.
My body remembered, though. Every cell of it ached, even as the burning hot blood of new vitality coursed through it, mending broken bones, cuts, and ruptured organs. I’d always thought it an odd sensation, not burning or itching exactly. It was more of an undefined pressure, sometimes a pinch, on specific parts of me. Of course, I wouldn’t be completely healed for a few more days yet. I’d have to take it easy until then. I let my eyes close and concentrated on the changes within me.
As I became more aware of my surroundings, it slowly dawned on me that I wasn’t alone.
“Enias,” I said, my voice soft, barely stronger than a passing thought.
He didn’t answer, which was odd for him. Then, the someone who wasn’t Enias, cleared his throat.
I didn’t want to disrupt any healing that might be going on in my spine, so I carefully turned my head toward the intruder and opened my eyes. Though it was dark, I could see quite well. After all, I had bird sight. Some birds couldn’t see well in at night, but others, like owls, could. And I was like one of the latter.
About fifteen feet away, I saw a man in his mid-thirties squatted on an oblong boulder that jutted a couple feet out of the ground. I say mid-thirties, but really, if he was one of my kind, how could I tell his age for sure? I, myself, only looked to be in my late twenties, but was in fact over four hundred years old.
Judging by the height of his knees in front of him, he was tall. He also had no paunch to push his legs away from his body. Nice. His shoulders were broad and his biceps looked well-muscled. A beefcake. Not so nice. While I enjoyed a six-pack as well as any girl, I didn’t like the personality that usually came with it.
I couldn’t tell the color of his hair, it was either black or a very dark brown, like mine. Some perverse part of me wanted it black, something different from the norm.
There was an old scar bisecting his left eye from his hairline all the way to his lower lid. All the features on that side of his face pulled slightly to it, like a giant wink. It didn’t make him unhandsome, though. Somehow, it added to his appeal. Could he see out of that eye?
“Welcome back to the living, little phoenix.” His voice was low, strong, and smooth, sending a shiver through me. I couldn’t explain its effect on me. It was a sensuous voice, sure, but it carried another subtle message: a warning.
Anyway, it’ll just be catch as catch can for awhile because I’m thick in the middle of another project. But I’ve got a start! *thrill*