by Colleen Foley
Coming back had been …turbulent,
at best. The music had changed on the way down, from piano to something
like a wheezy organ. It played the same phrase over and again, like a
tape loop. There’d been a voice beneath it, shouting like a carnival
hawker, and it had pissed me off.
I forgot to tell Seth about it when he mentioned that someone was trying to kill us.
“Oh goody, something new and different for us."
He
hauled me off the floor, shrugging in resignation. “Don’t look now,
Nate, but I’m beginning to think that’s our legacy. Let’s go.”
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