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Back Black Ambrosia Save as PDF
Chapters (46)
  1. CoverImage
  2. Introduction by Grady Hendrix
  3. Acknowledgments
  4. 1
  5. 2
  6. 3
  7. 4
  8. 5
  9. 6
  10. 7
  11. 8
  12. 9
  13. 10
  14. 11
  15. 12
  16. 13
  17. 14
  18. 15
  19. 16
  20. 17
  21. 18
  22. 19
  23. 20
  24. 21
  25. 22
  26. 23
  27. 24
  28. 25
  29. 26
  30. 27
  31. 28
  32. 29
  33. 30
  34. 31
  35. 32
  36. 33
  37. 34
  38. 35
  39. 36
  40. 37
  41. 38
  42. 39
  43. 40
  44. 41
  45. About the Author
  46. About the Cover

And then it came. Something horribly wet and cold slipped between the cheeks of my buttocks, and everything that had built up in me over the past days threatened to burst forth. I felt the newness of the night, felt its strength. I felt Her within, and I grasped my hair with both hands and held on for dear life; I held on, trying not to give in in the face of this loathsome experience, trying to think only of Sarah, of Sarah and Samuel, and of her healing me, that which I truly wanted most in the world.

I knew that I could stand this. A ride to Sarah’s was my reward. I could stand this. I would get to Sarah’s.

My skin crawled and inadvertent moans of dis­gust rose from the bottom of my soul as Rosemary kept me tethered to the bed all night, her imagination growing ever more disgusting. I was powerless to stop her, powerless to save myself, my crippled legs giving me the only peace I could find. I dove into the excruciating ache as Rosemary whiled away the hours, snickering and giggling with her perverted talk and laughter, and I lived for the pain of my legs and tried to ignore her for hours on end as she fiddled with me and her suitcase full of specialty items.

After what seemed like lifetimes had passed, I felt the tug of the dawn, and blessed unconsciousness slipped over me like a shroud.

“One of the things my daddy stressed to me when he was first teaching me about hunting—in fact, he mentioned it before each trip we went on—was: ‘Be sure you know what you’re going after, son, and why. And don’t be comin’ back with anything else. Come back with nothin’ if you need to, but don’t be comin’ back with just any old thing to make the trip worth­while.’

“The more I had to sit there in that Colorado bar and wait for Angelina to surface, the more I had to sit and think about why I was after her to begin with. Hell, I’d had a good job, had my pa and my brother Bill back in Westwater. I could be construction-­project foreman by now, or I could have been going back to school, or doing something with my life, instead of sitting in a stupid Seven Slopes bar all the time, drinking coffee in the morning and beer at night, trying to figure out how to catch that slippery little girl.

“What for, Boyd, I kept asking myself. You kill a deer, or a pig, or a rabbit for meat. For food. For life. Why are you after Angelina with such a desperation?