As I write the last chapter of The Lightning Struck Tower and snow is falling fast and heavy in St Paul, I offer you six sentences.
Cooper and Gray are on their boat and get unexpected visitors.
We were clearing the table and debating whether to stay in or go out for lunch before driving north when shadows darkened the glass doors, causing me to look up. I saw a confusing number of people before the door opened and they stepped inside.
“What the fuck! Don’t you knock?” I said to Richard McCollough, the first one into the room. At his side was Damon Winter, trusty right-hand telekinetic, and behind them, someone I didn’t know but judging by his clothing and demeanor, I was guessing he was the bodyguard.
Nothing much is moving outside. Everyone is hunkered down unless they absolutely have to be somewhere. The roads haven’t been plowed yet and are dangerous. My car is buried in snow. It’s said we might get as much as fifteen inches before this storm rolls through. The high tomorrow is only fourteen.
I’m trying to convince AJ we need to move to Florida. Like… NOW. Surprisingly, he’s not arguing much against it. ;/