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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

KYLE CARMICHAEL: “Sure I remember her. She was hanging around the hall when I got there. Never seen Boyd so taken with a woman before. They flock around him, women do, big, strong, good-­hearted boy like that. Flock around him, they do, he could have his pick, but he never seemed to date any of ’em seriously, not more than once or twice.

“Boyd’s daddy and me were old friends—fought the war together. Never had sons myself, only daugh­ters that my wife raised, so I kinda always felt that Boyd an’ Bill were mine, too. The four of us went hunting probably every weekend. It was just a thing for the guys to do, to get together, teach the young ones about life.

“Heh. If Boyd’d taken to girls the way he’d taken to hunting, he’d probably be in a lot of trouble. That boy would not quit. Sundown didn’t even stop him. He bought books and guns and loaded his own. One time he tracked a deer all weekend. Got him, too. Kind of obsessed, it seemed to me, but it didn’t worry his daddy any, and I’m not the kind to interfere.

“Always a gentleman, though, Boyd was. And his brother, too. Good sportsmen. Three of us kind of tired of hunting after a while; at first we stopped the shoot­ing, then we stopped taking the guns, and then we stopped going altogether, but not Boyd. He kept going. Alone, even.

“Yep. Did my heart good when I saw him and that little bit of a blonde look at each other like that. ‘Kyle,’ I said to myself, ‘Boyd’s got something here that’s a lot better than tracks in mountain snow. He’s got a woman to chase now.’ Heh. Nothing like a woman to change a boy’s head.”

10

10

I know the boy heard me approach, but he didn’t lift his head until I had knelt next to him and touched his shoulder. Then his fingers parted and he wiped his wet face, first on his hands, then on the sleeve of his jacket, grief still flooding his features. As he turned to face me, I saw the cruel bruise rising on his cheek.

“What?” he said, mistaking me for an emissary from his girlfriend.

“Nothing. I just came to be with you. To ease your pain. My name’s Angelina.”

He nodded, sniffing, and wiped his nose on his sleeve. I began to pet him. I ran my hands lightly over his head, his brown hair frosty in the cold. I touched his swelling cheek, and fingered his chin. I unbuttoned the top button of his coat while he fiddled with his fingers in his lap. Then he looked at me, his eyes red and miserable.

“I bought her a diamond for Christmas. What am I going to do with it now?”