-letter combining for the A-Z Challenge is perfectly legal in six different states-
(For the A-Z Challenge, I'm posting snippets from a current story idea, each chapter title corresponding with the letter of the day. Thanks for reading and enjoy!)
Ima -for that's what she told them she liked to be called- sat very still while the man named Greyson tried to explain to her what was going on. It occurred to her that he wasn't exactly being all that truthful, but at least he was trying.
That handsome guy Declan was sitting across from her, sipping tea as if the current conversation was about the weather and not about creatures in black who were really reanimated corpses. Whenever she looked over at him, he's get that gorgeous grin and wink at her, causing her to blush and feel even more awkward than she already felt.
Val kept leaving and returning with scones. Blueberry. Always blueberry. Twice she offered one to Ima; twice Ima declined. She still wasn't one hundred percent certain she wasn't dreaming...or being held hostage.
"But what does this all have to do with me?" Ima asked when Greyson took a breather from his tale of reanimated bodies and "modern Prometheuses" or whatever it was he was currently blabbing about.
Greyson blinked behind his glasses and looked at her like she was stupid.
"Oh Greyson, play fair." Val licked the crumbs from her fingers and poured herself a cup of tea from the pot her son was consuming. "As much as you want to believe that Josef told his little girl everything, you're incredibly wrong!" At this Val burst out laughing. "In fact, you owe me forty quid! Ha!"
Greyson rolled his eyes, didn't share in her laughter. Declan on the other hand was trying not to splutter in his tea at his mother's excitement.
"What are they talking about?" Ima asked the one sympathetic soul in the entire room.
Declan shook his head, "Mum made a bet with Greyson that your father did not inform you of anything before he left. Declan thought otherwise."
"My father left me and my mother when I was three years old. Thanks to him I've been carted all over the south east while my mom followed some stupid traveling circus. We could barely afford food before I turned twelve! Why the hell should I care what my father did or did not tell me?"
Ima was suddenly aware of three sets of eyes watching her.
"He told you nothing?" Declan asked.
"He left you when you were three?" Declan frowned.
"Sounds like another scumbag I know," Val murmured.
"Yes, I did leave her when she was three," another voice joined them from the shadows. "No, I didn't tell her anything, for her own safety. And no, madam, I am most certainly not like that other scumbag you know."
Ima frowned when a tall, rather large man appeared in the corner of the room. He too was dressed as if part of a Victorian play and he was smoking a pipe. He'd aged quite a bit from the photo Ima had managed to grab when Val whisked her away, but there was no denying who he was.
"Hello Ima dear. You are more lovely than I could have hoped for. I'm your father. And it's about time I explained some things to you."
"Great," Imogene sighed. "Mom was right. I am jinxed."