BooksBarbecue
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

I was too tired to explain.

Instead, I remembered my talent, long dormant, for charging the air in a room, and I closed my eyes and brought romance and mystery into the car, and a sense of adventure for the two young lovers.

“Leave her alone, Marsh,” the boy said. “Let her rest.”

The girl gave me a weak smile and turned around again, facing forward, snuggling under his arm, and again I was on the way to Sarah. Safe, for the time being.

“I’d prepared all my life for Angelina. I didn’t know it, of course, but I had done my homework, and done it well. I learned how to track, how to sniff the air, how to learn habits and predict movements, how to develop my intuition.

“The police in Seven Slopes wanted to publish a picture of Angelina, so I gave her description to the police artist. It was very strange, seeing her face again as it came to life on his sketch pad. He added just the right touches, too, a little feral look, thin and desperate, wild and cagey, sort of like her apartment smelled.

“I took a copy of that drawing to the bar with me and just sat and stared at it. It was a face I’ve known all my life.

“I got off track there for a while in Seven Slopes, I was so bloody disappointed, but as soon as I got word that she’d been spotted in Santa Fe, all my senses returned. This was no crank call, either. This was an accurate sighting, by six policemen, for Christ’s sake, and I flew.

“She was one step ahead of me.

“But one step behind was a lot closer than I’d gotten before.”

28

28

We passed the time in silence, my mind growing sharper as we neared Red Creek. Eventually we entered the little town and drove straight through—through to the restaurant/bar that served as a bus stop. I had them let me out in the parking lot and they drove off without so much as a good-bye.

I turned slowly to look at the building. Three cars and a pickup truck sat in the bar side of the parking lot; the brick walls gave no indication of what was inside, only the neon signs advertising it for what it was.

I had been here two years before. I had been a child then; I had just left Lewis, I was afraid, uncertain, and I went about attacking life, wearing my naivete like armor. I remembered the bus ride from Westwater to here; I remembered getting off the bus and telling the driver that I wouldn’t be continuing with him; I remembered walking down the road that cold night, hearing my boot heels tap a particular rhythm that spelled freedom.