Tracy S. Morris

Quirky Mysteries, Screwball Fantasy and Sassy History

Fiction Friday (Yeah, I known it’s Saturday).

Written By: Tracy - Nov• 21•09

More excerpts from the new project.

The doorman held the door for her and pointed the way to a gilded cage elevator with a stained glass roof – another good sign as far as she was concerned. But even as she crossed to the elevator, Celeste felt the back of her neck prickle. An elevator shaft would be the perfect place for an ambush. Just blast the box into slag and pour whatever is left out of the basement when it gets there.

She resisted the urge to wrap herself in a safe little cocoon of magic. She wasn’t five anymore, and besides – magic cocoons never helped anyway. Not when you suck at making them and your opponent was very good at blasting things.

The door to the elevator slid open. Celeste gulped as she stepped on, feeling like John Wayne riding herd into a box canyon and wondering what all those smoke signals on the horizon mean. If John Wayne can get through a bad situation with just a little swagger, then so can I. Of course, she reflected. John Wayne had the added benefit of being John Wayne, and I don’t.

She crossed her fingers and looked up at the Tiffany-jeweled roof as the elevator began to rise. Just looking at the fancy ceiling made her feel better. It wasn’t the kind of elevator that one blasted for the sake of melting an enemy to slag. For that, one installed trap doors in the flooring. Celeste took a deliberate step away from the center of the elevator.

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