By Mark Morris
Transported via time to the dank streets of Victorian London, Alex Locke seeks to resolve the mysteries of the Obsidian middle, the enigmatic item to which his destiny is inextricably certain. whilst a string of grisly murders occurs around the capital, Alex follows a path that would lead him throughout the opium dens of Limehouse into the darkish and twisted global of the Society of Blood, and ever towards unlocking the key of the guts.
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Extra resources for The Society of Blood (Obsidian Heart, Book 2)
I draw a big X over: 2. Nadia. And I press a little too hard, so the pen pokes through the paper. Now there’s a little black dot in my middle of my starburst. I lick my finger to wash the mistake away. But I change my mind. Instead, I add: 1. Another dot. 2. A curved line. Now there’s a little happy face on my knee. It doesn’t make me: 1. Smile. 2. Laugh. 3. Feel any better. But Cicely might like it. That’s enough. I see an unfinished jackalope balancing on the colossal nose of an albino Viking, but that’s only because it’s difficult for me to look at Cicely’s face as she’s saying, “He’s a monster.
I could probably figure this out myself if I thought about it hard enough, but I don’t want to. “Well,” she says. “I’m afraid if I kept it taped for too long, I’d forget that it’s there, and I’d make some stupid mistake. ” “Hm. ” And maybe I’m not laughing as much as usual. ” I want to tell her the truth, but I don’t want to add to her list of worries. I know she already has: 1. John. Not to mention: 2. The entire world. When Cicely takes my hand, a few tears escape me. And a few more. “It’s the whole slapping thing,” I say, crackle.
Gordon says. “Yeah,” I say. When he first moved in, that’s about all we did. “Jesus fuck, that was fun. ” “I don’t know. ” He laughs again. ” And in a way, that’s true. Six months ago we agreed on the meaning of life. We agreed that the meaning of life is to get so wrapped up in living that you don’t care about the meaning anymore. I stare at the half-finished Elvis on the floor. He’s: 1. Naked. 2. Empty. 3. Alone. ” I say. ” Gordon says. ” “It depends on what country you’re talking about. ” “Ah,” he says, in a gentle way, like he realizes I’m talking about my mom.
The Society of Blood (Obsidian Heart, Book 2) by Mark Morris