Friday Fiction - #1

The random number generator gave me WandererInGray's first sentence for today's installment of Friday Fiction. Congratulations, Katie! You've won a book of your choice from my stash. Today's choices are: Maggie Stiefvater's SHIVER, Kelly Gay's THE BETTER PART OF DARKNESS, and Jeaniene Frost's FIRST DROP OF CRIMSON.

FRIDAY FICTION

When I woke up in a dumpster covered in lime Jello I knew it was going to be one of those Mondays. Not that any of my Mondays have been peachy since she showed up, but whatever.

I stood up, felt the world tilt, and crashed back onto my bed of Jello, used napkins, and other substances I decided not to investigate. My head ached with so much intensity I had to reach up and pat my skull to make sure no one had embedded an axe in it while I wasn't looking.

My head, while mercifully axe-free, was covered with a sticky substance I soon discovered was blood. My blood. Which was shame because a) it really sucked to wake up bloody and lying in a dumpster and b) after everything I'd done yesterday, I'd really hoped to make her bleed instead.

Now I was stuck inside a metal prison that smelled like rotting food, and she was still out there. Hunting. Probably cozying up to Jonathan, lying through her teeth, and plotting his ultimate demise. She probably thought she'd killed me and the coast was clear.

She was going to really regret not finishing the job.

This time when I stood up, I dug my fingers into the cold, slimy side of the dumpster and hung on for dear life when the dizziness threatened to slap me back down. Nausea lurched toward the back of my throat as my sense of vertigo collided with the overwhelming scent of decaying something permeating the air. I swallowed against it and shoved the metal flap resting over the top of the dumpster. It flipped open with the harsh screech of metal hinges slowly giving ground to rust, and I grasped the edge with both hands and pulled myself up enough to see over the edge.

A man stood in the alley, his hands full of glossy black trash bags, his mouth gaping open like he'd never seen a girl covered in blood and lime Jello trying to crawl out of a dumpster.

"Am I glad to see you," I said. "You think you can give me a hand? I seem to be stuck."

He closed his mouth, but came no closer. "Um. What were you doing in there?"

I rolled my eyes and instantly regretted it as the pain in my head doubled. "Research."

He frowned. "What kind of research?"

The kind that seeks to understand what happens when a fairly average human girl decides to pick a fight with a totally superstar Nephilim.

"Never mind what kind of research. Can you pull me out?"

"You're bleeding," he said.

Thank you, Captain Obvious. "I know. I slipped on Jello and hit my head. Are you going to stare at me all day, or will you help me?"

He dumped his trash bags on the cracked asphalt and offered me a hand. Several minutes, two failed attempts, and one very ungraceful landing later, I was free of the dumpster. I thanked the man, who was now wearing almost as much Jello as I was, and headed toward the mouth of the alley. My head pounded with every step, dried blood caked my face, and my clothing looked like I'd somersaulted through an all-you-could-eat-buffet. I didn't care. All that mattered was I was alive, I knew where the weapon was hidden, and I no longer had any compunctions about using it.

I had a lying little Nephilim to kill.