Banish First Draft? DONE!

mood: bedazzled
pandora/ipod: "closer" by nine inch nails

I know, we're supposed to have Chapter 4 in my "How-To" Guide but I'm putting that off til Thursday of this week because...

I finally finished the first draft of BANISH!

I know, right? 50K words for NaNo in November and then it took me over two months to add a measly 22K. Regardless, it's done now. Poo-tastic, I'm afraid, but done. With the three day weekend looming, I plan to sit down and tackle the hardcopy with my Red Pen of Doom, a bottomless cup of coffee and a ridiculously large bag of pink grapefruit Jelly Bellies.

So in celebration of this momentous occasion, I decided to slip a Teaser Tuesday in here! Just to sort of swing the momentum back in my direction as I tackle edits which may or may not prove that this novel makes absolutely no sense whatsoever.

I'm babbling. Here's the set-up. Bridget is the second accompanist for her school's show choir. She's been hanging out in the church while the first accompanist plays rehearsal up on the altar, when she begins to hear voices. She is searching the church for a source of the voices, when the choir director calls her name.

"Bridget Liu!"

Bridget slammed the confessional door. From the altar, Mr. Vincent, Ms. Templeton and the entire show choir were staring at her.

"What are you doing?" Mr. Vincent said, clearly exasperated.

"Um, nothing?"

"Well, if you've finished exploring back there, could you please take your place for the Carols Medley?"

Bridget felt the heat rise up from her chest as she trotted back up to the piano. Ms. Templeton had already packed away her binders, leaving Bridget's sheet music on the piano.

Focus, Bridget. Maybe you were imagining it. Maybe this is a side effect of sleep deprivation. She flipped through her pages, making sure they were all in order, then prepped and looked expectantly at Mr. Vincent.

At his downbeat Bridget launched into the relatively simple accompaniment for "Angels We Have Heard On High." She focused on the music, the comforting pattern of regular harmonics, and tried to banish the invisible voices from her head. This was a church, after all, a place of God. They couldn't be here. They couldn't, they couldn't, they couldn’t.

"Gloria in excelsis Luciferi."

"No!" Bridget pushed away from the keyboard, toppled off the bench and cracked her head against the hard marble of the altar floor. The voices stopped.

Mr. Vincent slammed his baton against the music stand. "Bridget what are you--"

"Bridget?" Hector's hand was on her shoulder, helping her to her feet. "What's wrong?"

"I'm sorry. I, I have to..." She stumbled backwards, her eyes darting about the altar. They were here. How could they be here?

"You have to what?" Mr. Vincent said.

The dark interior of the sanctuary began to spin before her, the walls skewing and stretching from vertical. As she staggered away from the piano, she could have sworn that the angels in the stained glass windows above the altar turned to her with cold, evil grins.

"Bridge?" Hector's voice broke through her malaise, bringing the choir back into focus. His face was pale, his eyes lacked their usual sparkle. "Are you okay?"

Her hands were clammy and she could feel droplets of sweat cascade down her neck. "I'm not...I don't..."

"You look pale. Maybe you should go to the nurse's office?"

A flick of dense auburn curls from the back row of the choir caught Bridget's attention and she found a pair of deep green eyes, narrow as a cat's, fixed on her. Then Alexa tilted her head ever so slightly, her lovely fringe of lashes obscuring her eyes all together.

"Heard us. Heard us. The dark one heard us."

"Impossible, the Master knows all who hear."

"Look at her! She knows. She knows!"

With a sharp intake of breath, those piercing eyes flew open. Alexa stared straight at Bridget and a sly smile spread from her lips to her cheeks, hardening her lovely face until the high school sophomore was gone, replaced by a twisted mask of darkness and hate. From the black depths of her face, Alexa's green eyes glowed. She heard the voices, too.

"I gotta go." Bridget grabbed her backpack and ran.