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Little Book 8

I don’t know about other writers, but I love getting a story back from an editor. I know it is marked up, red all over it where words need to be changed or removed. Comments about the things that I messed up, missed or confused. As I understand it, there are quite a few authors who get upset with this.

Not me.

When an editor sends me a marked up manuscript, it is them helping me. It is another person doing the best that they can to help me make my work as good as it can be. I appreciate it and take the time to very carefully read everything. I want to make things better and this is what we will be doing.


So, to every editor I have worked with so far, thank you.

L. E. White

Little Book 8

Joey flipped through his paper, reading over the headlines just like he had been for the months before making his first payment. Claire examined him; her eyes narrow as she watched her charge act normal and relaxed. If there was anything she had learned while guarding the mortals it was that right before they attempted something stupid, they would act the most normal.

“What do we have on the agenda today?”

“You have a meeting with some distributors from the west coast at lunch.”

Joey nodded and looked up at Claire with a smile. “Good, then today will still be an easy day.”

“Are you still ill?” The question wasn’t quite right. She was sure the words were not the ones that most mortals would have chosen, but she didn’t know what other ones to use.

“No, I feel fine.”

She continued to watch him. Perhaps his time mating with the stupid girl had been what he needed, but that seemed unlikely. Joey was more like Andrew, the second man to accept the ledger. They acted similar and with the years that had passed, Claire supposed that they might have been related. That meant that they would behave the same. Right now, that meant that Joey wasn’t just ok.

He had a plan.


Joey nodded to Claire as he walked towards the door. She was up and beside of him before he realized that she had moved and he grinned when he looked at her out of the corner of his eye. “You don’t have to come with me. I am not going anywhere special.”

“It is my job to guard the man who carries the Journal.”

Joey stopped with his hand on the door and stared at her for a second before nodding and opening the door. She stepped through, looking around to assess the area before leading the way out to a cab. “You called for a car?”

“Yeah, I figured I would just go alone so I didn’t want to get a string of you guys worked up over nothing.”

Claire got into the cab and sat staring out the window they pulled up in a tiny neighborhood where most of the cars parked along the street had their hoods up or tires off.

Joey reached for the door handle and Clair jumped out of the other side. She looked around the neighborhood, estimating the level of danger, while Joey paid the cab and turned to walk across the street.

“Have you asked the driver to wait on us?”

“Yes,” Joey said.

“Why are we here?”

Joey smiled at here as he stopped in front of an old church. “This is where I grew up.”

Claire looked at him with her wide, watchful eyes before turning her gaze around her again. “And you are wanting to re-live some pleasant memory by visiting this site again?”

“Yeah, something like that.” Joey turned and headed towards the church. He climbed two of the steps before Claire appeared before him.

“You cannot go in there.”

“Why not?”

Claire stood between Joey and the door to the church with her arms hanging at her sides. She was two steps above him, but with her heels, she appeared to be three feet taller. Joey looked up at her without expression. Claire studied him, looking for a sign of what he was thinking before answering. “I cannot enter and it is my job to protect you.”

“I won’t need protection in the church. Just wait for me out here.”

“No,” she said. Clair raised one hand up and held it in front of Joey’s shoulder. “I will not allow you to enter this building since I cannot enter with you.”

“Claire,” Joey said with a soft, even voice. “Move out of my way.”


Joey lifted his arm, balling his hand into a fist as he did so, and started to punch Claire.

He was fast, experienced and capable of knocking a man out with a jab. Joey had spent years on the streets fighting before he started working for Morrin and he wondered if he wouldn’t have been better off trying to go pro as a boxer rather than getting into crime. His fist was in motion and he wondered how bad it was going to hurt to hit the shape-shifter.

The smack of skin on skin was loud. It rung in Joey’s ears as he looked at his fist, caught in Claire’s hand before he had covered even half the distance between them. She didn’t wince or frown from the force of the punch, she just stared at him.

“If you try to hurt me again, I will defend myself. Do you understand?”

“I thought you were supposed to protect me?”

Claire squeezed Joey’s hand and he clenched his jaw and tried to keep from screaming. She tightened her grip until he let out a noise that sounded like a cross between a growl and a groan before dropping to his knees in front of her. “I can protect you from death in many ways. Most of them will not be enjoyable to you.”

She released his hand and Joey glared at her. She smiled, letting him see her teeth shift so that they resembles sharks teeth and waited for him to relax. When his shoulders sagged, she returned to her normal, humorless appearance and helped him back to the cab.

Categories: Flash Fiction, Random, serial
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  1. November 16, 2013 at 4:25 PM

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