All Together Dead 7 by Charlaine Harris

Author:Charlaine Harris [Harris, Charlaine]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

I knew what ostracized meant, because it had been on my Word of the Day calendar. But my brain was just snagging on that word because the bigger meaning of Jake’s comment was affecting my

equilibrium. “No matter what he’s done?” I asked. “What would that mean?”

“Wel , of course, you know about Quinn,” Jake said, and I thought I might jump on his back and beat him around the head with something heavy.

“The wedding begins!” came Quinn’s magnified voice, and the crowd began streaming into the double doors he’d indicated earlier. Jake and I streamed right along with them. Quinn’s bouncy-boobed

assistant was standing just inside the doors, passing out little net bags of potpourri. Some were tied with blue and gold ribbon, some with blue and red.

“Why the different colors?” the whore asked Quinn’s assistant. I appreciated her asking, because it meant I didn’t have to.

“Red and blue from the Mississippi flag, blue and gold from the Indiana,” the woman said with an automatic smile. She stil had it pasted on her face when she handed me a red-and-blue tied bag,

though it faded in an almost comical way when she realized who I was.

Jake and I worked our way to a good spot a bit to the right of center. The stage was bare except for a few props, and there were no chairs. They weren’t expecting this to take very long, apparently.

“Answer me,” I hissed. “About Quinn.”

“After the wedding,” he said, trying not to smile. It had been a few months since Jake had had the upper hand on anyone, and he couldn’t hide the fact that he was enjoying it. He glanced behind us,

and his eyes widened. I looked in that direction to see that the opposite end of the room was set up as a buffet, though the main feature of the buffet was not food but blood. To my disgust, there were about twenty men and women standing in a line beside the synthetic blood fountain, and they al had name tags that read simply, “Wil ing Donor.” I about gagged. Could that be legal? But they were al free and unrestrained and could walk out if they chose, and most of them looked pretty eager to begin their donation. I did a quick scan of their brains. Yep, wil ing.

I turned to the platform, only eighteen inches high, which Mississippi and Indiana had just mounted. They’d put on elaborate costumes, which I remembered seeing before in a photo album at the shop

of a photographer who specialized in recording supernatural rituals. At least these were easy to put on. Russel was wearing a sort of heavy brocade, open-fronted robe that fit over his regular clothes. It was a splendid garment of gleaming gold cloth worked in a pattern of blue and scarlet. Bart, King of Indiana, was wearing a similar robe in a copper brown color, embroidered with a design in green and

gold.

“Their formal robes,” Rasul murmured. Once again, he’d drifted to my side without me noticing.

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