Teaser Tuesday
In a special edition of Teaser Tuesday (which I don't do that often anyway), I have for you a short snippet from my current YA UF, The Council Girl (working title). I don't want to say too much to set it up since, hopefully it speaks for itself. So let's just say this excerpt comes from the second chapter when the main character's teacher asks her to stay after class.
* * *
“Skya, do you have a minute?” he asked, voice as welcoming as always.
I nodded and made my way down the stairs. As the room thinned, I noticed a man rise from a seat I hadn’t seen occupied in the front row, his movements very deliberate. Had he been here this whole time? How had I not seen him earlier? He wore a knee length black trench coat and had long brown hair pulled back in a ponytail. I couldn’t see his face, but I knew he wasn’t a student, even from behind he looked old-seasoned-in an untraditional way.
In a dangerous way.
I shifted my bag so the opening hung an inch closer to my hand as I took the last step. I steadied my breath and checked my angles, not forgetting the all important peripherals. My nearest exit stood maybe two hundred feet to my right. There were two more behind me, up about forty steps. But things looked good between the first row of fixed seating and the stage where Dr. Trake’s desk and podium sat, plenty of open space. Not that I would need an open area if this got ugly. I once took out an Air Marshall in an airplane bathroom-I didn’t kill him or anything, just knocked him out to get to my target, who, funny enough, I did kill.
A cold sweat breezed over my palms. Dammit, I had been idle for too long, sloppy. I wiped them on my bag, covering the action up by shifting my duffle bag again. A risky move, drawing attention to the bag twice, but it was better than letting him see me sweat.
Dr. Trake’s eyes shined, as welcoming as always. Either he was a good actor or he didn’t see this guy as a threat. I just hoped he wouldn’t get in the way. With his wavy hair, warm face, and knowledge of what seemed like everything supernatural, it would be a shame to lose him. So I had a soft spot for the man. It was weak, but unavoidable. He was the first teacher I’d had who seemed to get me. His dark blue eyes and the single dimple on his left side didn’t make him hard to look at either.
“Did I do something wrong?” I asked, pulling on my student-not-assassin reminder hat again, standing my ground maybe twelve feet from the stage stairs.
The seasoned man’s trench rippled as he turned-no, pivoted. A TaeKwon-Do style pivot.
I resisted the urge to shift my stance too.
His fair skin highlighted his face, with cheekbones that would make any superficial woman turn green, which remained vacant of emotion. Unusual that his face exhibited no evidence of him being a fighter, no scars or badly set mended bones, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t, it just meant he was good. His hands rested in his pockets, a double edged sign. Either he had something up his sleeve or he was confident enough with the situation that he didn’t find me a challenge.
“Not at all,” Dr. Trake said after straightening the papers on his desk and crossed the stage, passing the threat without so much as a sideways glance. “On the contrary, I have a very exciting offer for one of my best students.” He descended the stage’s stairs toward me.
* * *
What do you think? Hooked? Would you read more? I'm only on the second edit and haven't gotten any feedback yet. Questions? Comments? I'd love to hear them.
* * *
“Skya, do you have a minute?” he asked, voice as welcoming as always.
I nodded and made my way down the stairs. As the room thinned, I noticed a man rise from a seat I hadn’t seen occupied in the front row, his movements very deliberate. Had he been here this whole time? How had I not seen him earlier? He wore a knee length black trench coat and had long brown hair pulled back in a ponytail. I couldn’t see his face, but I knew he wasn’t a student, even from behind he looked old-seasoned-in an untraditional way.
In a dangerous way.
I shifted my bag so the opening hung an inch closer to my hand as I took the last step. I steadied my breath and checked my angles, not forgetting the all important peripherals. My nearest exit stood maybe two hundred feet to my right. There were two more behind me, up about forty steps. But things looked good between the first row of fixed seating and the stage where Dr. Trake’s desk and podium sat, plenty of open space. Not that I would need an open area if this got ugly. I once took out an Air Marshall in an airplane bathroom-I didn’t kill him or anything, just knocked him out to get to my target, who, funny enough, I did kill.
A cold sweat breezed over my palms. Dammit, I had been idle for too long, sloppy. I wiped them on my bag, covering the action up by shifting my duffle bag again. A risky move, drawing attention to the bag twice, but it was better than letting him see me sweat.
Dr. Trake’s eyes shined, as welcoming as always. Either he was a good actor or he didn’t see this guy as a threat. I just hoped he wouldn’t get in the way. With his wavy hair, warm face, and knowledge of what seemed like everything supernatural, it would be a shame to lose him. So I had a soft spot for the man. It was weak, but unavoidable. He was the first teacher I’d had who seemed to get me. His dark blue eyes and the single dimple on his left side didn’t make him hard to look at either.
“Did I do something wrong?” I asked, pulling on my student-not-assassin reminder hat again, standing my ground maybe twelve feet from the stage stairs.
The seasoned man’s trench rippled as he turned-no, pivoted. A TaeKwon-Do style pivot.
I resisted the urge to shift my stance too.
His fair skin highlighted his face, with cheekbones that would make any superficial woman turn green, which remained vacant of emotion. Unusual that his face exhibited no evidence of him being a fighter, no scars or badly set mended bones, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t, it just meant he was good. His hands rested in his pockets, a double edged sign. Either he had something up his sleeve or he was confident enough with the situation that he didn’t find me a challenge.
“Not at all,” Dr. Trake said after straightening the papers on his desk and crossed the stage, passing the threat without so much as a sideways glance. “On the contrary, I have a very exciting offer for one of my best students.” He descended the stage’s stairs toward me.
* * *
What do you think? Hooked? Would you read more? I'm only on the second edit and haven't gotten any feedback yet. Questions? Comments? I'd love to hear them.