Sneak Peak: HEART OF SILVER Chapter

Good morning, lovelies!

I've finally started on the rough draft of Heart of Silver. It looks like the two main characters are going to be Nicole and Patrick. Considering the villains are white supremacist vampires, that's not much of a surprise.

Normally I write books chronologically. Especially stories like this, with multiple timelines (modern day, WWII, and a couple of chapters from the '70s). But this chapter will likely be in the middle of the book. It's a flashback, very similar to the Benny chapter in Heart of Iron, showing how Nicole's family realized she was a witch and their immediate reaction.

Fun fact: I actually considered doing a chapter like this in Heart of Iron, but couldn't find a place to naturally fit it. So I just kinda tucked it in the back of my mind for future reference.

I don't think I'll upload the entire rough draft chapter-by-chapter. While that definitely pushes me to write, it is very stressful, and I have several other projects demanding my attention while I work on this one.

Having said that, I am hoping for an increase in patrons, the better to wean myself away from social media ad revenue and ensure I don't need sponsorships, so...I don't know. I'll probably make a firmer decision once I have the book at least a third done. Having a buffer is a lifesaver.

Anyway, here's the chapter. Still a rough draft, which is why there's barely any detail or description.

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November, 2001

One of the most common questions Nicole heard growing up was “Where were you on 9/11?” Most Americans had that kind of conversation at least once, if they were old enough. Since Nicole was seven at the time, she didn’t remember much. Mostly the extra free time her class got, happily drawing, chatting, stealing snacks from each other while all the teachers huddled in the lounge for some reason.

She had a much clearer memory of what happened a couple of months later.

Usually, she got off at the bus stop that was just two blocks away from her house, with a couple of other students. But her parents didn’t like her home alone for too long, and that day they both had work stuff. So they told her to get off at a different stop, in downtown Bernier, so she could spend the hours in CaFae Latte under the watchful eye of her grandfather Benny and Aunt Violet.

It was an easy and fun arrangement: Nicole got a quiet, peaceful place to draw or do homework, the grown-ups didn’t worry, and she got really good hot chocolate. Plus snacks—Blue always gave her extra snacks.

On that particular day, she’d noticed Grandpa Benny talking quietly to Aunt Violet in the doorway of the kitchen, glancing at Nicole a few times. That itself wasn’t weird; grown-ups were supposed to watch over kids. But there was some sort of tension that Nicole couldn’t identify. Kind of like what her parents had before taking her to the doctor, the one who specialized in brains, the one who said Nicole was autistic. Funny word. She still didn’t really know what it meant, but the doctor had said that it just meant her brain worked a little different, and that’s why sometimes things got Too Much. Like t-shirts with the tags and seams, or big emotions that felt even bigger when she was tired, and she couldn’t handle some foods, like melons. She loved the flavor, like in smoothies and soda, but something about the way that fruit felt in her mouth made her whole body shudder, and she couldn’t eat another bite. It was also probably why she couldn’t use the crayons at school; she had to bring her own. Every time she touched something in her classroom, she could feel all the other little hands that had touched it before her. It itched under her skin like a million mosquito bites.

Anyway, it was weird. Her grandpa was acting weird. Her parents said that he just worried a lot, him and Abuela. But they didn’t need to; Nicole could look after herself. Just give her something to draw with, maybe some snacks or hot chocolate, and she was happy.

She’d just finished coloring the yellow of the sun when the bell over the door jingled.

Normally, Patrick wore regular t-shirts and jeans. He got them from a clothing store run by a fairy who enchanted them (new word; Nicole liked it) so they wouldn’t tear up when he turned into a wolf. But today, he wore neck-to-toe camouflage, like the soldiers that had been on TV so much.

Blue, standing behind the counter in his apron, took one look and sighed. “They shipping you out?”

“Yeah, they want the hardier soldiers on the front lines. I leave next week.”

“That was fast.”

Patrick shrugged. “Already went through basic once. I just needed to catch up on the latest weapons. Could I get a raspberry latte? Extra flavor shot.”

“Sure.”

Blue made the drink, grumbling about how the old uniforms looked better. Patrick said hi to Grandpa Benny, who fixed the werewolf’s hat and poked a wolf patch sewed onto his sleeve. “You get your own unit?”

“Yeah, they finally let each branch have their own para division. And within those divisions, we’re usually divided by specific species. Wolves get our own corps, the vampires get another, fairies a third, et cetera. Blue, you on break?”

“Gimme a few minutes,” Blue called from the kitchen.

“No rush.” Patrick took his drink and meandered over to Nicole. He sat on the cushy chair next to hers, smiling. “Hey, Nicole. Haven’t seen you in a while.”

“Blue said you were at boot camp,” she said, not looking up from her drawing. The flowers were a little tricky. “Said you were gonna fight the people who attacked the towers.”

“That’s the plan,” he said. “Whatcha drawing?”

“A dream I had.”

“Yeah? What’d you dream about?”

“That we’d get a cat. I hope it comes true, like my last dream. Daddy fell off a ladder and broke his arm, and I dreamed about it before that. That was a bad one, though.”

“…huh.” Patrick glanced over at the other grown-ups for some reason. “That must’ve been scary.”

“The doctors made him better,” she assured him. “But he still needs a cast because the bones have to heal. Can I see your wolf ears? They look like cat ears and I wanna get it right.”

The sides of Patrick’s head grew fuzzy, the little round ears going up his head as they got hairier and sharper. Nicole giggled every time she saw it, and Patrick smirked.

She reached out, then remembered what her mother told her and stopped. “Can I touch?”

“Sure. Be gentle.”

Permission granted, she touched the soft, fuzzy ear that twitched between her fingers.

That was the first time she could remember touching something, and Knowing.

She pulled back, still happy because the ear was very soft and fun to poke. “You’re old.”

Patrick burst out laughing. “Ouch!”

Nicole dimmed. “I’m sorry. Am I rude?”

“A little. But hey, everyone’s old to you.”

She tilted her head, studying the little notch in his ear. “Why’d they need a silver knife?”

Patrick paused. “…huh?”

“Your ear. The knife was silver. Daddy says silver is expensive, and Mommy says it’s dumb, and that’s why she doesn’t wear jewelry.”

He touched the notch in his ear. “…how’d you know I got this from a knife fight?”

She shrugged.

He cleared his throat. “Well, I’m a werewolf. And so a lot of things just don’t hurt me. That’s why I signed up to be a soldier. Lots of soldiers get hurt in fights, but I don’t. Not unless the other person is really strong—like another werewolf or a vampire—or they’re using silver. It’s kinda like Superman’s kryptonite.”

“Oh. Why’d they want to hurt you?”

“Well…the ones in that fight, they were hurting other people. And I tried to stop them.” He shrugged. “It worked, but sometimes, you get hurt in the process.”

Aunt Violet’s footsteps were light and sharp against the wooden floors. “Patrick, are you bothering my guest?”

“Probably,” he said with a grin. “Nicole here figured out how I got my ear hurt, just by touching it.”

Aunt Violet raised a dark purple eyebrow. “Interesting. Nicole, I was wondering if you could do something for me?”

“Like what?” she asked. Aunt Violet usually didn’t ask her for things. She wondered if someone’s phone had gone under the couch again; the spot was too little for grown-up hands.

Aunt Violet sat next to her and placed a small wooden box on the table, careful to avoid Nicole’s crayons and drawing. When she opened it, a small piece of jewelry—like a pin—winked up a Nicole.

“I’ve heard that you’ve gotten quite good at guessing about certain things. This is a broach I found gathering dust in the back of my closet. Could you tell me anything you know about it?”

Nicole frowned. It was a very pretty broach (weird word), with purple gems looking like a flower with a golden stem and emerald leaves. But she didn’t know anything.

“Try touching it,” Aunt Violet urged.

Nicole did, carefully picking it up from the cushions.

Ah. Now she Knew.

“You got this in the Fae Realm,” she realized. “It was a present.”

The fairy’s lavender eyes sparkled. “Can you tell me who made it?”

“Um…” Nicole squinted at the broach. “I think it was a lady?”

“How about how old it is?”

“Old. Like, two hundred years?”

“…a hundred and sixty, with some change,” Aunt Violet corrected. “A friend of mine made it for me before Blue and I left for the Fae Realm.”

She carefully took the broach from Nicole’s hands and put it back in the box. Patrick’s jaw was slack, and Nicole realized that even Blue and Grandpa Benny were quiet, watching.

“Nicole, do you know what clairvoyance means?” Aunt Violet asked.

When the girl shook her head, her aunt explained: “Clairvoyance is a magical ability. A person with this gift can touch any object and simply know things about it. If I had asked Patrick to tell me about the broach, he wouldn’t be able to tell me much.”

Nicole turned to Patrick, who nodded. “I can say that it’s pretty and probably expensive, but that’s it.”

“Wait…am I magic?!” Nicole almost shrieked.

“You are,” Aunt Violet confirmed. “I also heard that you’ve had a couple dreams come true.”

She beamed. “I’m gonna get a cat!”

“Hey, let’s not go too far,” Grandpa Benny called from the counter. “That might just be a dream.”

“Aw…” She sank back in her seat.

“Seeing the future in dreams is another ability,” Aunt Violet continued. “It’s called divination. And your grandfather is right, in that it’s difficult to tell the difference between visions that will come true and regular dreams. So, I would like to introduce you to some of my friends. A coven of witches who work just outside of town.”

Nicole sat back up again. “I’m gonna be a witch?”

“If you want to be,” her aunt said. “I think between the coven, and some lessons from myself, we can help you master your current gifts and perhaps help you develop some more.”

She almost vibrated out of her chair. She was going to be a witch! She was going to be as awesome and cool as her Aunt Violet!

“We’ll have to double-check with your parents, of course. But I don’t think there’ll be any objection…”

“Nah,” Grandpa Benny said. “They just wanted your opinion before panicking.”

“When can we start?” Nicole demanded.

“As soon as everyone’s schedule allows,” Aunt Violet promised. She booped Nicole’s nose. “Knowledge is power, child. If you apply yourself, then you could easily become one of the most powerful beings in the realm.”