(The following excerpt is from The Secret Room, book two of the Breed Wars saga:)
The first coffee of the day sits like hot mercury in my stomach long after I leave my car parked at The Warming Hut, my head down, my shoulders hunched. It’s cold. Or perhaps I should say colder than usual for San Francisco during this time of year.
A stiff wind blows my way from the nearby shoreline as I navigate the length of the Promenade. It whips my skirt against my bare thighs, a familiar sting. I keep walking.
In the distance I spy the length of the Golden Gate Bridge, rising from a sea of fog as it leaps across the bay. Its orange vermillion struts stand out in sharp contrast against the cloud it appears to rest on, as though the sky has fallen to earth. I neither stop nor pause.
Shortly thereafter I make my way past the parking lot on my way to the east walkway. As I do, I look up into the face of Joseph Strauss’s statue, posed atop its white circular pedestal as though the somber gentleman has been waiting for me.
Then, suddenly, I hear them again. Footsteps. Still some distance behind me, but just a bit louder, just a little closer.
My name is Marie Abigail St. Claire, and I have fifteen minutes to live.