So who’s to say some people don’t have abilities just north of normal. I recognize that some people are smarter, braver, stronger, can sing better, are luckier than others. I don’t entirely believe all this, but I don’t disbelieve it, either. And according to Diesel, we’re part of a loosely organized band of humans with abilities beyond the ordinary. The big, scruffy guy is unexplainably charming, and he has only one name . . . Diesel. He has a hard muscled body, a questionable attitude, and a monkey named Carl. The other guy is big and scruffy, and beach bum blond. His skin is pale, his eyes are dark, and his intentions are even darker. He’s eerily handsome, with midnight black, -shoulder. One of the men is called Wulf, short for Gerwulf Gri– And then two men and a monkey dropped into my world and changed it forever.
In January, three days after my -twenty–eighth birthday, I inherited a house from my Great Aunt Ophelia, and I took a job as pastry chef at Dazzle’s Bakery in Salem.įor five terrific months, I felt like my life was finally coming together. I chose culinary school after high school, where I limped my way through butchering beasts and excelled at baking cakes.
I -wasn’tĪ cheerleader or the prom queen.
I had a mildly embarrassing childhood free from any truly significant disasters. I’m 5’5″ tall, and my breasts measure more than my waist so I’m a happy camper. My hair is blond with some chemical assistance. My name is Lizzy Tucker, and I used to think I was normal.
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