Libby Drew
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Everything posted by Libby Drew
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"Today, I'm the line leader. I've been waiting three weeks to be the line leader. I got put at the bottom of the list cause I was new, but yesterday was Chrissie's day, which means that today it's my turn!" "I told you that if you were patient enough, your turn would come." Nate tugs on Sophie's ponytail. Kids stream by them on the way into the school, but Sophie hangs back, letting Nate fuss with her hair and backpack. He wonders if she senses that he's still nervous to let her go at times
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A week after the incident in front of Sophie's school, Will catches the early bus to Nate's house. It's been years since he's been out of bed before eight o'clock, except to stumble to the bathroom or kitchen, but this particular mission is worth the lost sleep. He's stayed away long enough, and it's time to check on the kids, whether they like it or not. He watches the sun rise over the roof of the temp agency, enjoying how the fresh clothes and hot shower have made him feel more alive. This ea
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Before he and Sophie had gone to live with their father, Nate never believed that a scream could actually pierce the night. Too many low-budget slasher movies with his friends at the dollar cinema, not to mention the hundreds, possibly thousands, of Marvel comic books devoured over the course of his youth, had weathered his appreciation of the phrase until it was nothing more than a bad pun. He knows better now. Sophie's scream takes him from a deep sleep to a dead run in less than two
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Awareness creeps over Will, stealing his unconscious oblivion. He decides against any energetic movement for the present, he's learned that lesson well enough, but does risk cracking one eye open. The lid peels up reluctantly, and though the world is brighter than he'd like, he sees only one of everything. A definite improvement from the distorted, double vision he remembers from the night before. His stomach lurches, and he shuts his eye again with a weak groan. All he wants is to go back
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Much later, after Will has run away and Miss Emma has stuffed them full of lasagna and crusty bread, Nate takes Sophie's hand, thanks their new landlady for dinner, and crosses the narrow yard to their back door. As he walks, he rubs at the ache that has sprung up behind his left temple. The unaccustomed activity, stress, and lack of sleep – not to mention Bran's incessant flirting – have given him a pounding headache. Sophie lags behind, yawning. Her feet shuffle over the concrete pavers,
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As soon as Nate says they'll take the house, Sophie squeals. She runs to the door, throws it open, and barrels down the stairs, calling for Miss Emma. Nate frowns after her as he digs into his bulging pocket, presumably to fish out the money Will knows he's keeping there. The first time he'd turned and seen Nate on the street, the money in the boy's left pocket had been as obvious as his fear and determination. Will thought about saying something to him, warning him that he was making himse
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I'm cold," Sophie tells him. She huddles against his side, legs tucked underneath her, and swipes the back of her hand under her nose. "How much longer?" Nate slips an arm around her shoulders and pulls her close. "Not much. I promise." She sighs and he gives a gentle tug to one of her tight curls. Her threadbare jeans, t-shirt, and windbreaker can't be too much of a help against the chill wind, and for as long as he can remember, Sophie has been thin and fragile. Almost made of glass. When
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Nate, on the run with his young sister, meets Will, a man who has given up on life. Their new friendship sets them both down the healing path: Will shows Nate that his fascination with his neighbor, Brandon, is nothing to fear, while Nate reminds Will that living is all about letting go of the past and embracing your desires, no matter what your age
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2008 Spring Anthology
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Sight of Stars *~*~* "Total light and total dark are the rarest of the rare. Good luck finding such a thing, cause I don't believe in them," Captain Galad'in told Samyel. "It's like God and the Devil. There's only one start and one finish, kid. Everything else falls somewhere in the middle." p.348 The Kollan War, Book V in the Ten Thousand Suns series *~*~* Thomas lowered himself onto his stool and pulled the first of the day's deliveries between his legs. The bo
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Two weeks after Grier watched Keev's bodyguards hustle him into his limo and down the mountain, and thirteen days after Aleck decided they'd return to the beach house, Grier woke to his cell phone vibrating on the bedside table. He caught it on the second ring, answering before he was fully awake. "I'm getting tired of this, Keev," he said. No need to check the caller ID. Only two people had his number, and one was in bed next to him. "No, you're not. You love the sound of my voice in the mor
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With Keev's steadying hand on her elbow, Nora was able to look the guard in the eye and not flinch. The slight weight of the syringe in her pocket was a constant reminder of her mission – one she'd have to bury deep if she didn't want Kaye or Graviel to see it. "What are you waiting for?" Keev snapped at the guard. "Open the door. I’m late enough." "Yes sir, Mr. Petrova." When the guard turned away, Keev winked at her. More nervous giggles bubbled up her throat. She swallowed them back.
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When Nora was a child, her grandparents took her rafting on the Rogue River. As much as she loved their house, high in the hills above the gorge, surrounded by trees and gurgling streams, she'd hated the raft. Even at that age, she'd seen it was nothing more than a piece of fabric filled with air, its path ruled by the chaotic rush of the water. It was survival by pure chance, and she was far too practical a child to accept that kind of risk. Not that this trip, along the same river, was any
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Aleck trudged up the steps from the beach to the boardwalk. The weathered planks followed the curve of the dune over the hill and down the other side. Scrub brush thrived above the tide line, growing in scattered clumps. Aleck squinted, but all he could see was the very top of the beach house roof. At the shoreline, even that wasn't visible. Amelia and Henri had given them the perfect hiding place. Each day his stamina improved, and Grier had used what gifts he possessed to speed Aleck's reco
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Handcrafted stone walls and cypress trees lined the road to Valldemossa. Such a serene setting was sure to put Graviel on edge. He no doubt expected an ambush of some sort. Roman exited the limousine when it rolled to a stop outside the restaurant and breathed in the fragrant air. He dismissed his driver with a wave. "Remember, Keev," he said as he smoothed a hand down his coat. "Vigilance." "Do you expect Graviel to let his shields slip in front of you?" Keev mumbled. He tapped a cigarette f
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The desire to party or fuck his troubles away disappeared with his two guests. Grier would've called it petulant. Keev deemed it cautious. Grier hadn't explained how the Organization had tracked him down, but it didn't take a genius to deduce Aleck was behind it. The man was hiding something amongst all those churning emotions. So was Grier. And he'd been scared, which was enough to give Keev nightmares. The time had come to chose sides, but who were the players and what were their agendas? W
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American suburbia: a combination of prosperity and debt, little league and little affairs, and young people living old dreams. Grier hated it. He couldn't deny, however, its suitability as a hiding place. How fortunate that Aleck's friend and her husband wallowed here. His concern for Aleck grew with each passing mile. He was slumped against the door, arm curled over the bandage Grier had pressed against the wound. Shallow, wheezing gasps came far too infrequently for Grier's taste. An hour a
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Nora pressed against the car door, making herself as small as possible. Beside her, Graviel rolled a quarter back and forth between his knuckles. She watched from the corner of her eye, but didn't stare outright. The trick was meant to mesmerize her. She knew his ways. The cab hit a bump, and the quarter fell, then stopped mid-air before floating back into Graviel's palm. He closed his fist around it. Nora glanced at his face, then snapped her eyes back to the window. Before her fidgeting gav
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Aleck and Grier exited the jet into cloying tropical heat. Blinded by the rising sun, Aleck squinted to keep from stumbling down the stairs. Sunglasses would've helped, but the past twenty-four hours had seen him cross half a continent, and he'd barely had the chance to brush his teeth, let alone shop for appropriate island attire. Dressed in jeans and one of Grier's long-sleeved shirts, an ensemble better suited to spring in New York, he was sweating before he reached the bottom of the steps
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Crawford County airport was little more than a pub with a runway attached. There were aviation offices, with wide oak doors and engraved nameplates, but they were locked, and Grier noted a layer of dust on the fancy brass handles. He walked past without even bothering to knock. Around the other side of the terminal, a bar, complete with Pacman and a listing pool table, promised 'the coldest, most refreshing draft beer in town'. There was a man huddled over his alcohol who looked promising. Ti
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Nora braced herself for the pain, but the intensity of it still caught her off guard. With a strangled yelp, she withered to the floor, pulling a stack of papers with her. Waves of agony wracked her body. Time passed, she had no idea how much, then a pair of arms encircled and steadied her as she rode out the last of the bone-grinding tremors. A questing presence in her mind filled the void left by Aleck's withdrawal. "Easy now. The worst is over." Nora doubted that. She peeked through he
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It took Grier just over an hour to cross New Jersey. He followed the interstate until the highway became a small two-lane country road. It ended in a sleepy community, a pretentious little town where the wealthy of Manhattan spent their weekends, complete with cobbled streets and a Starbucks on every corner. Storefronts mimicking those of Colonial times were framed by gas lamp-lined sidewalks. A lake stretched the length of the valley below, its shores dotted with colorful boathouses. Grier w
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Grier had paved his way; the doorman didn't gave Aleck a second glance. Henry Shipton, his small, tasteful nametag said. Aleck paused just inside the wide glass doors and waited until he had Henry's attention. "I'm sorry," Aleck said. "But I'm supposed to meet Mr. Swann—" "Yes, he's expecting you." Henry clasped his hands behind his back, his vague smile just twisted enough to indicate he knew the precise reason for Aleck's visit. "I'm afraid I've forgotten the apartment number," Alec
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Banking on obscurity, Grier chose to hide in Manhattan. His Sutton Place residence consisted of four interconnected rooms, but dripped opulence and came with the kind of original architectural detail that buyers craved. Grier couldn't care less about stone gargoyles and marble columns. Security was stringent, discreet, and round the clock. He'd deemed it expensive, but affordable. His time with the Organization had paid well, and his assets were secure in several different Swiss accounts. He
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The bomb detonated while Grier was still two blocks away. The shockwave propelled him backward into a brick wall, and his skull cracked against the masonry. Whipping his arms up to cover his face, he hissed as a wave of heated air rushed past, leaving a thick cloud of dust and debris in its wake. As the rumbling faded and the screaming began, Grier pounded his fist against the wall. "No!" Ten minutes, even five, would've made the difference. Just that small amount and he could've reached
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