Either way, they wanted me dead pretty damn badly. Usually, when someone wants you dead that badly, they succeed. Not tonight or tomorrow, but unless Edward and I could find out who had put the contract out on me, the line of talent would just keep coming.
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I stared into Richard's face, almost close enough to kiss. I thought about never seeing him again. About never touching him again. About never satisfying that growing hunger that perfumed the air whenever I was with him. I touched his face, lightly running my fingertips down his cheek. We got out of the car. I filled my automatic fish feeder full of enough food for a week.
In a week's time, if the assassin was still after me, and if I was still alive, I'd have to come back. All the bad guys had to do was stake out my fish tank, and they had me if they were patient enough. Somehow I didn't think they would be. I packed a few things, including my stuffed toy penguin, Sigmund, every weapon I owned, a few clothes, an outfit for tomorrow's date with Jean-Claude.
Yeah, probably I wouldn't be going, but I didn't want to come back to the apartment, not for anything. I left a message on Ronnie's machine.
We usually worked out together on Saturday morning, but I didn't want Ronnie in the line of fire. She was a private detective, but Ronnie wasn't a shooter, not like I was. She had a certain respect for life that could get you killed. Richard waited while I changed. Black jeans, a royal blue polo shirt, white jogging socks with a blue stripe, black Nikes, and I felt more myself.
I laid the Browning's shoulder holster in my suitcase. The Browning was my main gun, and I missed it.
- Jimmy Stewart: The Truth Behind the Legend;
- Anita Blake, Vampire Hunter!
- Modernity and Malaysia: Settling the Menraq Forest Nomads (The Modern Anthropology of Southeast Asia)!
I'd have missed it under normal circumstances, but now my hand ached for the gun. I guess that's what backup guns are for. The Firestar 9mm is a good gun and fits my hand well.
My hands are small enough that a lot of 9mms are just too big. The Browning was about the limit of a comfortable grip. I wore the Firestar in an inter-pants holster, set for a forward cross draw, which meant you could see the gun. I wasn't sure I cared tonight. I put on wrist sheaths and both knives. These were the last two of a foursome that I'd had custom made for my hands, with the highest silver content possible in the steel.
I'd had to have two of them replaced; monsters ate them. I put the two new knives in the suitcase still in their felt-lined box. They were pretty and sharp enough to cut your skin if you ran a thumb along the edge. While I was having the lost knives replaced, I'd ordered a new one. I almost wished I had been scared.
The Killing Dance (Anita Blake Vampire Hunter Series #6)
Somewhere out there, by tomorrow, someone would have my name on a to-do list. Pick up dry cleaning, buy groceries, kill Anita Blake. Anita lives in a parallel universe, much like our own, save that not only do things like vampires and shapeshifters exist, but their presence is public knowledge. It is recommended that you read the full length novels - including the novellas like "Micah" and "Flirt" - in the order they were published.
The Killing Dance by Hamilton, Laurell K
Norton was the first woman I knew that wrote what I wanted to write. It gave me hope that not everyone that wrote this was a dead white guy. Both books would be important influences for me. It was a nonfiction book covering vampire and wereanimal legend around the world. It was also the first book I ever read with serial killers in it. All of that would have a profound influence on me as a writer. She came to school and gave me an armload of them. That would be the beginning of me researching how to be a professional writer. I believe I was 15 or 16 at the time. By age 17 I was collecting my first rejection slips for my stories.
He advised to pick a small room in your house and when you have wall-papered it with your rejection slips then you will have gotten the crap out of you and be down to the meat of what you have to say as a writer and you will sell. I picked the bathroom. College found me enrolled in the creative writing program.
I would be kicked out of that program at the end of my sophomore year. The head of the writing program told me I was a corrupting influence on the other students. The teacher thought she could cure me of wanting to write horror. I finished out my English degree with literature courses, and went to the biology department. I would get my bio degree in two years time.
Have you let her know what a success you are? She feared I would go out and do exactly what I have done, corrupt millions. I moved to Los Angeles and got my first cooperate job. Started submitting stories again, and getting nice rejection notes from editors. I started my first book, two pages a day every day before work. Discovered hard-boiled detective fiction in the local library. Biggest influence was Robert B.
Moved to St. Went to my first Science Ficiton convention, NamethatCon.
The Killing Dance (Anita Blake, Vampire Hunter, Book 6)
It also introduced me to my writing group, The Alternate Historians. I sold the next story that I sent off in the mail. I met my first agent at one of these conventions. It was heroic fantasy just like one of my first heroes Robert E. Then the bottom fell out of the fantasy market.