A Not-So-Good-Good-Excuse

So, haha, things have kind of been crazy around here (crazy in the sense that we get this thing going and then it gets quiet!), haven't they? Well, here's my excuse. For the past couple months I have been in this conscious battle - deciding on which story to focus on and finish. I have been juggling between Annora's Story and the first story I ever started writing with the goal to publsh - LoA. I lived in a haze for awhile, setting my feet into Annora's story and getting a lot done, but still, something wasn't right. After a lot of painstaking soul searching, I have decided to finish LoA as my first finished (and revised) novel. My goal, which I am well on my way to achieving, is to have LoA typed up and ready for revision by the first of January 2010.

In essence, all of this deciding and internal fighting has consumed me. I do have some stuff from NaNoWriMo I am going to edit and post but - haha - I'm too lazy to do that now :P. However, I do have some stuff from Annora's story....Ryan's PoV. :] It’s unrevised and not my favorite section of him, but, it’s something, no?

Enjoy :)

"Abram, go home and relax. I'm here so that you all can go home to see your families." Tilting my wrist I opened the top file of the stack I held. The file was the most recent of them all; images of the deceased taken before their demise stared me in the face. In most of the images the people were smiling and happy, beautiful and carefree - they never expected to meet such a horrific end. The targets were always so unsuspecting. Even if I could have felt nauseous as I stared down at the pre and post death photos, I wouldn't have...you got used to being apathetic in my "career field". It was a necessity, otherwise you could never live with yourself, something that was becoming harder and harder to do in times like these.

"How are you supposed to get a family of your own if you don't ever go home?" Abram retorted, folding his arms over his decorated chest. His eyes rested on me but I avoided his gaze behind my dark shades. I didn’t want to have this conversation, not now, not ever – and surely not with the likes of them. They didn’t understand; they could not comprehend it. "Come on, Ryan, when was the last time you really went out and had a chance to meet the next Mrs. Ryan Colle?"

Staying silent I swallowed thickly, my throat dry for more than just the fact that I was a vampire. How are you supposed to get a family of your own if you don't ever go home? It wasn't his fault that the words he had said hit me the way they did, he didn't know me - at least not the real me; none of them did. And with good right. There had only ever been one humani to have broken the strong barrier I had in place between the mysterious humani mask I wore and the monster caged inside. She had slipped in without meaning to and had become the closest thing I had, had to a sister in over a century - it was a mixed and miserable blessing. All that had ever gotten the angelic being of a woman was a cold grave. Tenderly my eyes fell to the crisp folder in my hands, it wasn't hers, but it was close enough. I let out a with-held breath, the memory of the said woman's face as vivid in my mind as if I was staring at her picture. "I prefer the solitude, Michaels." I told him through tight throat muscles.

Giving me that same sad look that all of the other detectives gave me, like I was some sad state of a young man - a waste of twenty-something aged body, Agent Michaels shook his head. "Sometime, someday, you’ll change your mind. And when that happens, maybe you'll come out with us on Friday nights instead of staying here, buried in unsolvable cases and surrounded by the dead."

Closing my eyes I couldn't help but snort silently. If only he knew. "We'll see, Michaels, I like being surrounded by the dead. They're good listeners and they have a story to tell themselves. I've committed my life to defending them and the living against their killers. When you come across those unsolvable cases, I don't know about you, but I feel for them even more than the others. They are usually - but not always - the ones without family there to mourn them. I just feel like they need to be appreciated."

"They grow you guys weird at the F.B.I. office, don't they? I'm as devoted to my job as the next guy - and I feel for the dead - but not like that. I could never spend my after work hours doing all you do. It's going to take a lot of searching on your part to find a girl who is willing to compete with your job."


“That’s why I’m here, so you don’t have to do what I do.” I thought quickly on how to end the present conversation without snapping at the man before me. I was stressed enough as it was, without having to defend myself about my social life. This kind of conversation was not exactly something I wanted to have at the moment. I had other, more pressing issues on my mind. Taking in a deep breath I closed my eyes and released the tight muscles in my stiff shoulders. "Thank you for the files, Abram, I appreciate you getting them for me. However, I think I'll stay here tonight while you and the guys go out - maybe I'll come next time."


"You always say that and never do."


Before me Abram looked like a bit of a small child, frustrated with my lack of interest (of course, compared to my age he was a child anyway). I was old enough to be his great-great grandfather's grandfather. Despite this, I smirked, thoroughly amused by my fellow agents protest, "And I always mean it, Abram, I assure you. I just get pre-occupied, that's all." Of my own accord, of course.

My fellow agent didn't entirely believe me; that much was obvious to the plain and naked humani eye. "One of these days we're going to kidnap you and drag you along - whether you want to come or not." Abram proceeded to tell me, heading for the doorway of my small office. It was ten minutes, maybe fifteen if I was lucky, until closing. Most of the lights in the police station were now off or dimmed, casting a vacant horror story appearance on the rest of the station behind the younger man. Of course, he didn't know how much of a true horror story he was living.


Inwardly I laughed, trying to restrain from rolling my eyes. I would have liked to see them try to drag me anywhere I didn't want to go. Obviously, they were not familiar with my kind; the potential down fall of the human race was just summed up in that one sentence. "Do what you wish, if you feel so inclined, but tonight I am staying right here." He wasn't thrilled with the idea, but he did not protest. Instead, he took in heavy breathes and clenched his jaw. Although he was a good man he did not appreciate a lack of reciprocation when he put his foot forward in kindness or generosity. And by me denying his open invitation, I had just taken part in denying him reciprocation. I ignored his inward tantrum of sorts, knowing that he would get over it eventually, and turned around in my chair as if to pick something up off the floor. Satisfied in his own un-so way, Michaels left my office, shutting the door sharply behind him.

I waited ten minutes until I was sure that everyone was gone before taking off my sun glasses. Even though the light from my eyes was enough, I still kept the poor light from my desk lamp on. It made me feel more human. I stared down at the folders in my hand, placing the newer files aside and onto my desk calendar (which had also served as a place mat of sorts more than once before) with barely a flick of my wrist. With those gone, I fixated on the cover of the folder that had been on the bottom. I knew that file too well; I knew that case too well. It was my entire fault that it had ever occurred, and knowing that devoured me inside.


Talia Lamont. The pictures of her lying face down in a pool of her own blood did not do her beauty justice. In real life, when she was not tortured and was well rested, she had been a beautiful woman with hazel eyes and curly blond hair spun up in a stunning hairdo from an earlier decade. She was a woman who lived in the nineties but whose wardrobe was still stuck in the fifties; any other woman could not have pulled it off. Talia, though, was not any other woman, it fit her and that's all that mattered. My fingers lingered on her crime scene mug shorts for a moment or two, those pictures were the only crime scene photos I had ever had break my apathetic facade. It happened every time I looked at them, like clock work. My eyes traced the image for something -anything - that I may have missed previously. The hunt was impossible, I knew that, but desperation will lead a man to do stupid things.

Finding nothing there I scanned through the other crime scene photos, and then the reports - the same routine as always. I ran over each word precisely three times before continuing on to the next, so it took me an hour to get to the last sentence of the Crime Scene report. Like I had somewhat expected I was not able to find anything new - not that I knew exactly what I was looking for; a strand of hope, I suppose – and the case had been cold for years. Piercing my lips I looked down at the half-turned page, leaning back into the chair as if deciding whether or not I really wanted to turn the page. I was. Clenching my jaw, a strange form of mental preparation, I slowly turned the sheet of paper and stared down at the beautiful young feminine face staring up at me from an orphanage school picture. Her knees were pulled up to her chest and her arms folded across them with her chin resting on the top of the pile. Soft, wavy blonde hair was tucked behind her ears and her blue eyes were sparkling as bright as ever. She looked so happy; so carefree. She had always been good at putting on an act, though, so how true that whole look in her eyes was I could not be sure. Normally, I would have been wondering about how she was feeling now, but I knew the family she was with now and I knew that she would be happy there. No, it wasn't her mental well-being I was worried about now; I had something far more dangerous and fragile to worry about. My family was after her and she didn't appear to have a clue. They would not stop at any obstacle or any length to get to her; they would cut down anyone that got in their way of getting to her - Carter's family included. They wanted her and Annora had no clue. Her two friends, that wolf and that phaser...they could not even begin to protect her against my family.

David had made it clear for me to stay away, to distance myself from Annora and I did, though not in the way I am sure he meant, but he didn't understand. He couldn't. Annora was in danger, she had always been, and I could never have left her before and I couldn't now - she needed me to protect her, even if they denied it. I was the only one that could keep her from my family - not even Jake could deny that. Jake would do anything to protect Annora, as would I.