The Entropy of Bones
Language: English
Pages: 224
ISBN: 1618731033
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
The Soul Stealer (Rogue Angel, Book 12)
The Stolen (Nine Lives of Chloe King, Book 2)
New Regime (Rune Alexander, Book 5)
The Belial Stone (The Belial Series, Book 1)
girl had punked him. But he had it coming for going after the Little Kid for no reason one lunch period. If he was dumb, he’d come alone. Either way he’d be strapped. As my calves ached from the Demon’s Tears pose—legs parallel and bent, weight on the left, right ankle loose for a snap kick to groin or face, right arm protecting vital trunk organs, other arm chambered and relaxed, ready for whatever came, Narayana smirked. “Good girl.” But I didn’t do anything, I said, my concentration broken.
paint on face don’t make you good. Has to come . . .” For the love of Christ, Raj . . . “Yes, ok? You pretty. Make good money if you sell it. Now go protect Little Kid.” With no one else around I felt ok to grin. While everybody else was at prom, the real prom, Little Kid and I were transforming his mom’s sandwich shop into a den of music, dancing, and underage drinking. When he first saw me, Little Kid looked like he wanted to say something, but then couldn’t find the words so resorted to
did, or he has some serious enemies.” Maybe it’s a little of both? I asked. “I’m not used to you sounding this unsure of yourself,” she said. I couldn’t see her eyes because of her face-sized sunglasses. “I thought I’d like a little humility in your voice.” It’s just that . . . I started. I’m not worried about his enemies. I can take on whomever . . . “There’s my cocky daughter.” She smiled in earnest. It’s just that I’ve got an instinctive thing against this guy. Him and all his pretty
close. Work hours were such a precious commodity when I was growing up I didn’t think I’d ever hear about her giving them up. Even when Narayana left and I was incoherent, she still went to work. I spent the week before the funeral embarrassed and avoidant. Rice would get no response to his numerous texts, emails, and phone calls, despite how insistent each one became. He claimed he just wanted to make sure I was ok. But the want in his voice, the need, it unsettled me. Not his desire, but mine
Mom cut me off right away. “They were going to send him off with no music. You remember “Beautiful Hills of Galilee”? We’re singing that at the end. Get over the shyness and be of service.” Mom patted my hair and helped some of the more senior folks into the big living room. Mom used to sing the song in the pre-Narayana days when she wasn’t too drunk and I was having problems sleeping. It’s a mournful and fatalistic slice of peace that probably wouldn’t be approved by any therapist as an
