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Back Seasons of Chaos Save as PDF
Chapters (70)
  1. Dedication
  2. Prologue
  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. Epilogue
  66. Acknowledgments
  67. About the Author
  68. Books by Elle Cosimano
  69. Back Ad
  70. About the Publisher

“Take this,” Auggie says, fitting a wireless headset around my ear. It looks like some kind of transmitter. I reach up to touch it, wondering how old it is. The corner of Auggie’s mouth turns up as he adjusts it. “Don’t worry. It’s new technology. Your Winter friend here will be able to track your location. He’ll be able to hear you, and you will hear him.”

“We’ll take care of Fleur,” Chill says quietly. “Better get moving. You’ve got less than an hour to make it to the bandstand.”

I turn for the stairs, expecting Julio and Amber to try to stop me. Expecting someone to voice out loud all the what-ifs clamoring inside my head.

Julio raises his palm to me, grabbing my hand when I slap his and dragging me in for a hug. He smacks my back, careful to avoid my stitches. “Don’t let the asshole get close enough to mess up your hair,” he says, pulling a reluctant smile out of me. “Let’s go. I’ll give you a lift to the park.”

Amber nudges him out of the way. She wraps her arms around me, squeezing me hard. “Be safe,” she whispers. “We’ve got your back.”

54

Bow and Accept the End

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FLEUR

Jack’s up to something. He’d never be foolish enough to agree to this. Gnawing my thumbnail, I pace the edge of the bandstand, staring out into the park. Rain pours in sheets over the lip of the octagonal roof, spattering the flagstones below it. The tall towers in the financial district are eerily invisible, the horizon wrapped in a thick black haze, washed out by churning storm clouds. Entire swaths of the city are unlit, without power.

It’s easy to see why Doug picked this place. He paces the perimeter of the bandstand, his eyes bright as they swing like a searchlight over the park. The bandstand is high ground, offering clean lines of sight in every direction, the tall trees spread out in a wide ring around the iron structure like giant guards. This whole thing reeks of a trap. And I don’t like how slippery Doug’s mind feels when I try to see what’s happening inside it.

Doug stops moving. He stiffens as Jack appears in the distance, like a smaze through the mist. I run to the rail, but Doug’s mind grabs hold of me before I reach the steps.

The shirt under Jack’s jacket is stained, traces of red bleeding through the wet fabric. There’s an odd lean in his step, as if he’s favoring his right leg, and a ragged hole in his jeans becomes visible as he approaches. The rain amplifies the tang of blood in the air.