After several stops and starts, rewrites and revisions, I think I’ve finally hit on the true beginning of my book. Here it is, in all of its rough draft glory:
I ducked under the police tape, Isa right behind me. The moon provided enough light to barely see the empty yard stretching to the house. We hadn’t seen any policemen patrolling the area, but we weren’t taking any chances. We’d left the car at Mark and Emma’s and hiked over.
Isa touched my shoulder. I turned and she tapped her nose and pointed to a piece of darkness off to the left. As a werewolf, her senses were better than mine. She had smelled someone lurking in the shadows.
We circled to the right and crept up to the patio door that led to my parents’ bedroom. I pulled the key from my pocket and slipped it into the lock. The door swung open silently and we stepped inside, glad to be out of sight.
Isa took a deep breath and barely suppressed the coughing fit that followed.
“What do you smell?” I whispered.
“Blood, old, but lots of it. Your family and other humans, probably the police, but the scent is old so I don’t think anyone is inside. And…” She paused and took another sniff.
“Vampires.” She spat the world with a slight curl of her lip, as if it tasted bitter on her tongue.
“Vampires? Like ‘I vant to suck your blood’?” I asked in my best fake Dracula accent. I scoffed. “Vampires don’t exist.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Neither do werewolves.”
She had a point.