Welcome to my stop on the High Fire blog tour! Today, I’m bringing you a short extract of the highly anticipated contemporary fantasy novel from the beloved author of Artemis Fowl!
Squib often felt hard done by fortune-wise. Everybody got some luck, a bone tossed their way by Mother Nature. Squib’s boon was common among Cajun folk in that the maringouins had never taken a shine to him. Maybe it was the French blood from way back, but more likely the Caribbean had more to do with the situation. Squib never could fathom how a person could even tolerate the bayou after sunset with the mosquitoes ripping chunks out of their flesh. You see those tourists in the morning wandering around welted like they got themselves tortured. Some Guantanamo-looking shit. Nothing took the cool out of a college calf tattoo like half a dozen septic lumps. Squib got maybe a handful of bites a season, and even then, it was usually some zirondelle on a rampage.
So that was his luck.
Hard to turn a fella’s life around on that, less’n he got spotted hanging at the mall by some model scout. And that wasn’t overlikely. Squib didn’t really hang per se. He was a not-enough-hours-in- the-day kind of guy. Always working, making a buck.
His Cajun skin made setting crawfish traps more comfortable, at least. Squib would motor up the bayou towards Honey Island and float half a dozen of those cages near tell-tale lily pads, then spend a few hours trawling with a scoop net until his traps were bursting at the wire. In all his years night fishing, Squib had only ever been bit the one time, and then it wasn’t no mosquito but a moccasin that got itself tangled up in a cage. The snake must have been jizzed out, though, because Squib suffered no more than a nub of swelling around the teeth marks.
Tonight I got bigger fish in my sights, thought Squib, going all melodramatic. A life of crime.
Squib knew that he was stepping over some kind of threshold and there wouldn’t be no crossing back, but Regence Hooke was a devil in a tasselled cap who had his sights set on Elodie Moreau, so it was up to him to buy them some distance.
Maybe if we’re living in the middle of a development with plenty of witnesses, then Hooke might settle down some and back off.
Squib’s warped reasoning was based on a child’s understanding of evil men. He couldn’t know that specimens like Regence Hooke didn’t get settled down; they got riled up.
The only time Hooke ever settled down was with a blister pack of Benzedrine, a quart of Old Forester’s, and a hooker at the door.
That’s it for this post! Don’t forget to check out reviews and more content from the other bloggers on this tour!