BooksBarbecue
Back Four Roads Cross Save as PDF
Chapters (75)
  1. Title Page
  2. Copyright Notice
  3. 1
  4. 2
  5. 3
  6. 4
  7. 5
  8. 6
  9. 7
  10. 8
  11. 9
  12. 10
  13. 11
  14. 12
  15. 13
  16. 14
  17. 15
  18. 16
  19. 17
  20. 18
  21. 19
  22. 20
  23. 21
  24. 22
  25. 23
  26. 24
  27. 25
  28. 26
  29. 27
  30. 28
  31. 29
  32. 30
  33. 31
  34. 32
  35. 33
  36. 34
  37. 35
  38. 36
  39. 37
  40. 38
  41. 39
  42. 40
  43. 41
  44. 42
  45. 43
  46. 44
  47. 45
  48. 46
  49. 47
  50. 48
  51. 49
  52. 50
  53. 51
  54. 52
  55. 53
  56. 54
  57. 55
  58. 56
  59. 57
  60. 58
  61. 59
  62. 60
  63. 61
  64. 62
  65. 63
  66. 64
  67. 65
  68. 66
  69. 67
  70. 68
  71. 69
  72. Acknowledgments
  73. Also by Max Gladstone
  74. About the Author
  75. Newsletter Sign-up

“Never did trust philosophy.” A pause, in which she failed again to find her breath. “You didn’t know you’d survive that?”

“I’ve had my throat slit before. I don’t experiment, but other people always seem happy to oblige.”

“Pirate.”

“Cop.”

She shrugged. “Thanks.”

“Hells. Now we have her, you have an excuse to take her ship. That’s the real prize. Rescue the people she’s smuggling, save the day. And I needed to work on my tan.”

She punched him in the arm. He winced.

Inside her, the pit still yawned, and beneath that pit, another, deeper.

7

7

The goddess addressed Cat in the shower, in her mother’s voice.

Catherine, why do you turn from me?

Oh, I don’t know if I turn from you as such, she replied as she shampooed. We have a close working relationship.

You live inside my body, yet we don’t talk like I do with my children.

I barely had my life figured out working with Justice. Then you came along.

You visited back alley bloodsucker dens for the thrill of being drunk. Does that constitute having your life figured out?

I didn’t say I had it figured well. Just figured. She soaped down, rinsed off, turned into the shower spray. I was raised to think you were dead, and a traitor. Your children were my childhood ghosts.

That isn’t my fault.

She shut off the water, reached blind for her towel, and rubbed herself dry.

I can help you. We can be closer than the structure of Justice allows. You are a priestess. You have made a vow. You could perform miracles.

Miracles aren’t my job.

The voice did not answer. Somewhere beneath her feet, the moon smiled.

She had a fresh change of clothes in her locker, and as she put it on she convinced herself she felt clean.

*   *   *

She was halfway through the paperwork on the morning’s raid when a duty officer—Cramden, she thought, beneath the Suit—came to tell her Tara Abernathy was looking for her. “Send her back,” Cat said, and watched him go, smooth and assured, rippling silver.

She hadn’t made progress on the paperwork when the door opened again. She looked up from the form, exasperated. “How do you spell ‘ceiling’?”

Tara wrote the glyphs in air with her fingertip and shut the door behind her. “Long day?”

“Two long days,” she said, “and it’s only one thirty. It’ll be four long days before I’m done.”

“I need you at a meeting tonight.”

“Can’t. I have an operation. And this.” She fanned the forms.