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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

I returned to the bedroom closet. Sarah’s jaw was stiffening with the rigor, and it took all my strength and the high heel of one of her displaced shoes to open her mouth. With my fore­finger, I swiped the back of her tongue, bringing forth a thickening scoop of the elixir of life for which Sarah had no further use. Returning to the bathroom, I applied it slowly and carefully to my lips, evenly coating each curve, each nuance. Then I licked my white teeth and spoke softly to the new face, the starkly chiseled features that looked back to me, and I said, “Angelina,” watching the tip of my tongue show for the briefest of moments as the L came alive. Yes. It was Her. In my mirror reflection. These were the lips, the teeth, the tongue. Dark, wet, and seductive, the lips now had a total face to bring them true life.

She and I had become one—or was it always so?

“I almost gave up. In Santa Fe. We’d missed her and I tasted the disappointment of the waiting game, searching the newspapers, putting out bulletins to uninterested policemen, and knowing she’d probably slip us up at her next stop anyway. I knew someone else would carry on; I knew someone else would continue the search, I didn’t have to; I could go home.

“To what? To a stupid job in a boring town with my punk brother and my worn-out father?

“As much as I hated to admit it, Angelina had given me something to live for, something to look forward to, other than just living, growing old, and dying in Westwater.

“And I guess I was kind of afraid of catching her.

“But then that cop finally, finally fucking remembered that she said she needed to get to Red Creek, and it was right then that I knew Angelina’d changed. She’d turned, somehow, and she was looking for a place to rest, lick her wounds. A den. A hole.

“I smelled a wounded animal when I read that cop’s statement. A wounded animal is unpredictable. Angelina must have been delirious to talk to a policeman at all, much less tell him where she was going. Yep, I smelled a wounded animal, and when an animal’s wounded, you’ve got no choice but to track it until you find it. A wounded animal must be brought down.

“A wounded animal changes the whole hunt. It’s changed, insane, dangerous. Everything changes when you’re looking for a hurt one. There’s no time to lose, and no longer a choice. I was in for the duration, because I had chosen the hunt.

“Extinction is unnatural. Everything escalates. If an animal is not too far gone, it’ll go into heat, to try to breed before it dies.”

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