by Tina Whittle
Driving north to Atlanta felt like moving forwards in time. Despite the deepening autumn color, the air was temperate, with a satin-soft breeze, almost like spring. I knew better, though. Winter lay ahead of us, the fallow and the fallen time. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.
From where I sat, I couldn’t see the scrape along Trey’s neck, or the swelling bruise at the back of his head. I could see the black eye, however, and the bandages along his forearm, covering the raw skin around his wrists. He was a map of pain and spilled blood.
But he was alive, and safe, and sitting next to me. And we’d been so close to some other ending.
The tears came hot and fast then. I wiped my eyes and blinked, trying to keep them back, but a sob bubbled up despite my efforts. And then the road dissolved before me in a watery blur, and I felt the whole of it coming together, the fear and relief and terror and gratitude and…the other thing.
I pulled the Camaro onto the grassy shoulder and rested my forehead on the wheel. I knew what had my heart clutched tight. All I had to do was look at Trey, and it sang in my head, the knowledge that I was deeply and totally and irrevocably…
I swallowed hard. Even thinking the words made me dizzy. I had to tell him, though. I owed him that much.
I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Trey?”
No response. I looked over. He was asleep, his notebook fallen open in his lap. For the first time I could see what he’d written clearly enough to read it. When I realized what it was, my chest went all soft and melty.
The reasons he was with me. He’d started a list.
Number five was sweet, number seven unexpected. And number thirteen? Specific. Very specific. But he’d put special emphasis on number one, which had been marked with an asterisk.
Showing up, it read.
My heart cracked all the way open then, but it kept beating. And my lungs kept pumping. And eventually my eyes cleared and the road opened before me with a bright clarity.
I reached over and double-checked his seatbelt. Smoothed his hair back from his forehead, even though I knew the wind would kick it into a mess again the second we hit cruising speed.
Then I pulled back onto the road and took us home.
Author Note
Savannah is a city full of stories—ghost stories, gossip stories, old stories, new stories. Some really happened, and some are burnished with the bright hand of invention. But they’re all true, including Tai Randolph’s version.
The Westin Hotel does sit on Hutchinson Island, on the banks of the Savannah River, right next to the Savannah International Convention Center. They’re both lovely places, very well-maintained and security-conscious. Any nefarious activities at either place are entirely the product of my imagination and have no basis in reality. The Savannah-Chatham Metro Police Department is equally blameless for the villains I helped to infiltrate its forces.
Most of the places I mention do exist: River Street, Wassaw Island, Turner Creek, Oatland Island Educational Center, Skidaway Island State Park, The Olympia Café, the Marshall House Hotel. Café Gelatohhh in City Market really does serve the best gelato in the city. I especially recommend the buttermilk version—tell Joel I sent you and he’ll probably treat you extra special.
Club One is very real also, and has great pool tables in the basement. If you’re looking for The Speakeasy, however, you’re going to have to look elsewhere. It does exist, but its location really is secret. If you manage to find it, remember…shhhhh.
And if after reading about German-Thai fusion, you find yourself with a craving for bratwurst curry, don’t look for it in Atlanta—head to the Schnitzel Shack in downtown Rincon, Georgia, just up the road from Savannah.
Tai’s history is on the mark as well—the curse, the ghosts, and the Cornerstone Speech itself are all very real even if intangible. No copy of the speech exists, however, and finding such a thing would be a major historical coup, as would digging up the Lost Confederate Gold. There are thousands of people looking; maybe one day some intrepid explorer will find the map that will lead him—or her—to the X that marks the spot.
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Table of Contents
Blood, Ash, and Bone
Contents
Dedication
Acknowledgments
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
Chapter Twenty-four
Chapter Twenty-five
Chapter Twenty-six
Chapter Twenty-seven
Chapter Twenty-eight
Chapter Twenty-nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-one
Chapter Thirty-two
Chapter Thirty-three
Chapter Thirty-four
Chapter Thirty-five
Chapter Thirty-six
Chapter Thirty-seven
Chapter Thirty-eight
Chapter Thirty-nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-one
Chapter Forty-two
Chapter Forty-three
Chapter Forty-four
Chapter Forty-five
Chapter Forty-six
Chapter Forty-seven
Author Note
More from this Author
Contact Us
Table of Contents
Blood, Ash, and Bone
Contents
Dedication
Acknowledgments
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
Chapter Twenty-four
Chapter Twenty-five
Chapter Twenty-six
Chapter Twenty-seven
Chapter Twenty-eight
Chapter Twenty-nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-one
Chapter Thirty-two
Chapter Thirty-three
Chapter Thirty-four
Chapter Thirty-five
Chapter Thirty-six
Chapter Thirty-seven
Chapter Thirty-eight
Chapter Thirty-nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-one
Chapter Forty-two
Chapter Forty-thre
e
Chapter Forty-four
Chapter Forty-five
Chapter Forty-six
Chapter Forty-seven
Author Note
More from this Author
Contact Us
