Author of Paranormal Romance/Urban Fantasy
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Tuesday, December 7, 2010

Oh deer, how ironic!

     Chris hit a deer in our Explorer this morning on his way to work.  Very ironic considering that this scene was written as an add-in scene for Blood Thief two days ago:    

     As I drove home, I tossed things around in my mind. The fire at the club had been called arson at first and then dismissed as accidental. Had someone been paid off or threatened? If it was arson, who was behind it and why? The kid I'd caught in the greenhouse had been at the club that night. What if he was watching me since the night Catherine had been killed and I'd seen him at the Five and Dine? If he had set the fire, was it in order to draw me out? He knew more than was tolerable, that was for certain. I needed to find him and fog his mind. It wasn't likely that anyone would believe him if he started spouting off to authorities that vampires existed, but I couldn't risk the safety of my kind.

     At the traffic light where Old Sarum highway crosses Lee Farm Road, another thought came to me. What if someone had hired the kid? Anna's ex, maybe? The light changed and I drove forward. Suppose Anna wasn't the only target? If by trying to hurt or kill Anna in a fire, someone was attempting to hurt me . . . all the unfortunate things that had happened lately were coincidence, right? Surely there was no way that Maggie Kelly's murder, the theft of the reliquary and the break in at my home were all connected. I was just becoming paranoid.

     I very nearly missed seeing the deer that bounded out of the woods to cross in front of me until it was too late. As it was, I swerved and hit the brakes, but my car didn't slow at all. I tried to wrest the wheel back the other direction even as I kept pumping the brakes, but it was futile. I slid into the ditch. The deer gave a backward glance at me and then leapt into the woods, its natural camoflauge causing it to vanish nearly instantly, even to me. I slammed my hands against the steering wheel and cursed a blue streak.

     I got out to inspect the damage. The grass had been slicked down and mud oozed up over my shoe as I stepped around the front of the car. One tire was partially off the wheel and the rim was bent. Thankfully, the only body damage was a dent about the size of my fist and a few scratches leading up to it. I did then what almost every girl would do in a similar situation. I got back in the car, called the AAA and had a good cry.

     By the time I'd used up all the tissues I could find in the car, the tow truck driver had arrived. He took one look at all the bloody tissues and asked if I needed an ambulance. I assured him I was fine and told him I'd just gotten a nosebleed while waiting. He comforted me and told me it was probably just stress, to which I readily agreed, and then set about getting my car out of the ditch while I waited in the nice toasty cab of his truck with a fresh pack of tissues just in case. I do love the AAA.

     When was he done hooking up my car and climbed back in the cab, I signed the mandatory paperwork. He asked me how I'd managed to get into the ditch. I explained about the deer and my brakes failing to respond. He gave me a long appraising look and the climbed back out of the cab. He called to me a moment later and I got out as well. When I went around and looked at what he was pointing at I felt a chill run up my spine.

     His words confirmed my suspicions, "Brake line has been cut."

     Maybe everything wasn't coincidence after all.

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