Vampire Story Update

I’ve spent most of the summer rewriting my vampire story. The first version was a novel. The second is a novella.

The initial rewrite took out a major character and storyline. The edits I’m working on now take out another. The cuts were the kind of material that’s often found in paranormal fiction. Unfortunately, it just didn’t read well in mine.

For better or worse, my story isn’t high stakes or even especially complicated. Most of the violence happens off page. There is a not very spectacular crime plot, no explicit sex and only one curse word.

Instead of a kick-ass heroine I have somebody whose arc is mostly about addiction, neurobiology, trauma recovery and vampires. It is a little dark but not in the usual way.

My working title is Swap Junkies (which will make sense by the end of Chapter One).

I plan to have the rewrites done by my birthday (August 22nd). Which means I’m going to have stop binge re-watching Dark Shadows at night and get back to writing.

(More on Dark Shadows in an upcoming post).

Swap Junkies Scene 1

Miranda O’Malley arrived at the Black Goddess a little after midnight and took a seat at her usual table. On a low pedestal just a few feet away, an over-sized statue of Kali glared blindly into the crowd.

Kali was painted in bright carnival colors, the paint strange and shiny in the light of a dozen flickering candles. A necklace of bleached baby monkey skulls encircled her neck. At her feet was a wide brass bowl filled with fruit and flowers and money.

On this particular night, most of the vampires at the Black Goddess were half-vamps. Unlike their blue-blood vampire mothers or fathers, half-vamps couldn’t zap people or wipe someone’s mind or see the power pulsing away in another vampire’s aura.

Miranda couldn’t do those things either, of course, but she could hear auras at least instead of see them. And each one was unique.

Blue-bloods were a symphony and each symphony was a one of a kind composition. Half-vamps were static, but it was never the same static even with them—which made being around a bar full of half-vamps sound like an old time radio receiver sweeping back and forth in between channels.

Miranda pulled out her phone and stared at blindly as she worked to shut out the energy and when she looked up, a small girl with long, silky brown hair was standing on the other side of the table.

Her name was Layla Peterson, and she had been friends with Miranda’s younger sister Violet, up until Violet had gone away to college and never looked back

“Hey Miranda.”

Miranda put down her phone. “Hey.”

Layla had a on white filmy blouse with long gauzy sleeves and round peasant neck. It made her look soft and pretty and young. “I heard Daniel’s back home. ”

Miranda sighed. It would be that. “So did I.”

“You haven’t seen him?”

“Nope.”

Layla didn’t smile, but Miranda knew she was happy. “Word is you guys are on the outs.”

“We are.” Miranda resisted the urge to disconnect from the conversation and go back to her phone. “Have you seen Sketcher?”

Layla shook her head. “I think he’s in jail.”

“For dealing?”

“That’s what I heard.”

He’d gone outside the gate then, the idiot, or sold to some tourist. “Do you know anyone else?”

“Not for V.” Layla picked at her bright pink nails and the long gauzy sleeves slipped down to reveal three sets of fresh double dot bite marks. She’d gotten tired, apparently, of waiting for Daniel to notice her. “But a vampire I know was asking about you.”

“Which one?”

Layla made a quick over the shoulder gesture. “By Kali.”

Miranda studied the skinny half-breed vampire on the far side of the altar. His dark hair was slicked back and his complexion was pasty. The plains of his face were sharp in the flickering light of Kali’s candles.

He was obviously lurking—close enough for even a half-vamp to hear every word they were saying.

“Is he safe?” Miranda asked.

Layla pulled down her sleeves. “Definitely.”

Miranda focused on the fuzzy pulse of his energy, and the static around her began to fade.