First Page Entry #4--Rapier

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Name, Title, Genre, Word count, and first page.

Entry #4

Title: Rapier
Genre: Urban Fantasy
Wordcount: 101,000

First Page -

I felt the other immortal before I saw him. Or her. Gender isn’t a factor in my twisted-gut reaction to another like me.

The middle of nowhere town was like many others I’d been in, smelling of hot asphalt and exhaust fumes. The town square had a beer garden in commemoration of Labor Day and the townsfolk were strolling with their kids. The elders were holding down the iron benches with their butts. A little something for everyone that day. Including me.

Several of the good people from Middle America eyed me—the stranger in their midst—but their attention soon wavered. It wasn’t polite to stare, especially at the ones who had answered their advertisement for a jolly good time at the celebrations. Supporting the local economy and all.

In addition to the locally brewed beer, munchies were everywhere. From deep-fried turkey legs to funnel cakes. I’d passed on the first and was just finishing the second when my stomach dipped as if my digestion was fighting off a bug. Like major, a knife plunged into my innards. It always hurt when I sensed another immortal, but after so many centuries, I’d learned to blow it off without so much as a stumble.

I licked the powdered sugar off my fingers and wiped my hands with the napkins given to me by young miss at the concession. She had given me an appraising look as I thanked her. Her fingers lingered on mine when she’d handed me the change for my ten spot and I’d rewarded her with a smile. She brightened for a moment but when she leaned forward, I turned away. So not interested.

My fingers cleaned, mouth wiped, I swept the crowd with a disinterested gaze, like I was looking for a bathroom. I couldn’t spot the immortal right off. Neither challenging hard glares nor scared rabbits looking to run. People—all humans except for one—were going about their business without giving me an obvious target.

The oldsters had their heads together speaking softly. Not them. For a moment my gaze rested on a jeans-clad twenty-something dude in a tight black T-shirt. But he didn’t look my way. Anyone who felt the presence of another immortal would be looking. Like the funnel cake gal who was still obviously interested. Or the brown-eyed beauty sitting on the rock wall across the grounds. That one was finishing an ice cream cone, glancing up as she did.