Wynne applied the Page 69 Test to his new novel, The Sword of Michael, and reported the following:
Page 69 is actually a key scene in the relationship between the protagonist, Marius Winter, a shamanic depossessionist, and Jolene LaMoore, the love of his life, a Wiccan priestess.Visit Marcus Wynne's website.
Page 69 is a key scene on several levels. From the plot perspective, it’s a foreshadowing of what is unrolling (unbeknownst to the protagonist and his girlfriend) around the two of them. From the character development perspective, for both Marius and Jolene, it’s one of the scenes that illuminates the deep structure of their relationship — and the fierce independence and interdependence that characterizes their love affair.
From Marius’s evolution as a character perspective, it’s one of the key reveals — “I can’t help it. It’s my nature.”
From page 69:This time.
A faint whisper from my guides…Chicken…
I took a deep breath.
“I respect you and your work, Jolene. You know that. As sure as the breath we both breathe. Okay? Here’s the thing: this is already a violent fight. Dillon and me, we’ve been down this road before. And yeah, so have you. I know this. This is very focused on me. I need to keep my mind in the fight. And yes, it’s a character flaw, and I’m painfully aware of it, but I can’t concentrate when I’m thinking or worrying about you. I will, I can’t help it. It’s my nature.”
“Like the scorpion and the frog.”
“Sure. Whatever. You in this makes me more vulnerable.”
“It’s warrior strategy, Jolene. You’re my distraction. You’re my weakness. That’s how they’ll try and get me. They tried the straight on frontal. All it did was add to my body count and Dillon’s compost pile. But with you…they’ll try to get at me through you. It’ll add fear and uncertainty…you know how they feed on that.”
She studied my face. Sat back, touched one finger to her drink. I saw understanding in her.
“Yes,” she said. “I know what they feed on.”
“Will you do this for me? Please? It will help me get through this. Just stay out, look to yourself. I know you can take care of yourself. I need you to be my safe harbor if I need one. I mean, when I need one,” I added in a hurry.
She got up and went to the counter. “Johnny?” she called to the extravagantly tattooed and coiffed rockabilly manager. “Would you get me a refill please?”
“Sure,” he said. “House?”
“No. The Guatemalan Organic.”
He decanted some for her, and dropped me a knowing wink as she turned back to join me at the table.
Thanks for that, Johnny.
She eased into her chair, all back clad lissome length of her. A waft of her perfume, heated by temper and the body I knew so well, filtered my way.