Sharon’s note: So many supernatural academy main characters are ‘sassy’ and ‘have an attitude’. They usually are just really whiny and intermittently act like psychos because that’s ‘quirky’. I’m going a different direction. My character is a jaded asshole. Warning: Author has sooooo many plans.
There was no way I was going to be able to sneak past the guy who was still shouting at me from my porch, so I opened the door to tell him to go away.
“Ta-freakin-da.” The lawyer looking dude held out his hand and a green flame the size of an egg sparked to life in his palm.
I raised an eyebrow. “Nice trick, but aren’t you late to perform for a kid’s birthday party?”
He closed his hand around the flame and groaned. “It’s not a trick, it’s real magic.”
“Yeah, I’m sure.” It was times like this that I wished I carried mace. “Can you go? I need to go see a doctor about whatever is going on with my eye, and you’re freaking me out.”
He ran a hand through his hair. “They won’t be able to help you because they won’t be able to see it. Besides, there’s nothing wrong with you. The mark is magical and shows great favor from the gods. It shows that you are the Chosen One. ”
I burst out laughing. “What kind of drunk-ass idiot god would choose me?”
His frown grew deeper. “No. It’s foretold. We called for the gods’ help and they sent their mark to one pure of heart, body and spirit.”
And I thought I couldn’t laugh any harder. My ribs were starting to hurt and I was feeling light headed from lack of oxygen. “You . . . you think . . . that . . . that I . . . pure . . .”
“The gods do not make mistakes.” His eyes were bugging out like, well, like I was insulting his god. I wiped a tear out of my eye and forced myself to breathe normally.
“Look, even if I didn’t think you’re crazy, I would have to tell you that you messed up. I’m not pure of anything.” I thought for a moment, then started laughing again. “Maybe the gods meant to mark my roommate, Samantha. I don’t know her that well, but it seems to fit her to a tee.”
“There can’t be a mistake. The gods do not make mistakes,” he insisted.
“Look, you’re crazy, and I want to leave. Will you just go?” I made shooing motions and made the decision that I would close the door again. If he was still there in five minutes, I would call the cops.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a wad of cash. The one on the outside, at least, was a hundred. “I’ll give you you five hundred bucks to hear me out.”
I only hesitated a moment before making the excuse that my roommates were home, and it would be fine. “Come on in.”
Gray Matters: The Works of Sharon and James Gray 