Read Online In Irina's Cards (The Variant Conspiracy #1) by Christine Hart - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Christine Hart
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with two capsules on it instructing me to feed a pill to each mouse, and then feed one unfortunate rodent to Chester immediately. Part two was to place the second temporary survivor into a smaller cage in the cupboard below Chester’s sacred perch.
I didn’t have strong feeling about snakes, aside from a healthy caution regarding poisonous varieties. It was part of my live-and-let-live philosophy that had always worked out rather well. Chester on the other hand, quickly became my exception. His giant, polished wet eyes held me in a trance as we stared at each other. I hadn’t noticed my face inching towards the glass until I felt a hand on my shoulder.
“I’ve been wondering if I’d bump into you around here,” said Jonah’s voice as I yelped in shock. “I guess you’re not allowed down to the tombs yet.”
His vibrant blue eyes sparkled as though lit internally. He must know how unusual he looked and make regular allowances for people who stare too long.
“Feel like grabbing some dinner?” he asked.
I nodded with a smile.
I followed Jonah to his car. When we emerged from underground parking, he turned onto the waterfront street I’d come to know so well. We turned south and the Inner Harbour unfolded in front of us. The panorama started with the vine-covered brick of The Empress hotel, the art deco façade of The Royal BC Museum, and the stylized domes of BC’s Provincial Parliament. The distinctive old world atmosphere quickly gave way to several huge and swanky hotels at the far edge of the Harbour. As we passed underneath, I looked up at each building. Old world Europe and contemporary American culture walked hand in hand here.
We reached the end of the Harbour and the coastline opened up around the corner. I saw a sign for ferries to the US in front of a giant concrete breakwater and a pub decorated with a helm wheel and a mural with starfish and orcas. The hazy soft blues of the ocean and sky were broken by the jagged edges of American snow-capped mountains on the horizon. The seaside sidewalk had a mix of young families, dog-walkers, and spry seniors in trendy windbreakers.
“You know what they say about the people here in Victoria, right?” said Jonah, as he watched me watch everyone else.
“No, I can’t say that I do. More money than they know what to do with?”
“True, but not as bad as Vancouver. Ever heard of the saying ‘newlyweds and nearly deads’ or as my mom says, ‘God’s waiting room.’”
“Kind of a dark way to look at things, isn’t it?”
“My mom’s a dark lady, but hilarious. I hope you don’t mind, but I also invited Cole and his sister. You’ll love this little restaurant. It’s got awesome food and live music, but not too hipster-ish,” said Jonah.
Something dropped in my chest. If Cole brought his sister, we were just a group of friends going for dinner. I felt silly for having thought that we were going on a date. We turned another corner and Jonah pulled the car over next to a brick building with a 50’s style neon sign that read ‘Cymbals’ next to a caricature of a drum set. I followed Jonah through the wrought iron gate and looked up at the oak tree on the lawn next to the patio. Tiny fresh leaves and new buds covered the gnarled old tree. It was also home to dozens and dozens of sneakers, canvas shoes, skate shoes, oxfords–basically any kind of shoe with laces to tie together.
The air felt warm enough to linger, so I walked over to the tree and looked upward. I smiled. I reached up to one of the lower branches and touched one of the shoes. The yard and the tree melted away. I saw the face of a girl with faintly bluish skin and platinum hair. She turned and I saw two leather-like wings flex and relax. Her shirt had been cut to make room for her wings which stretched out past the frayed edges of the fabric. She was standing in a sewer or catacomb.
Faces milled around the winged girl. It wasn’t quite like a party, maybe more like a camp.
I didn’t have strong feeling about snakes, aside from a healthy caution regarding poisonous varieties. It was part of my live-and-let-live philosophy that had always worked out rather well. Chester on the other hand, quickly became my exception. His giant, polished wet eyes held me in a trance as we stared at each other. I hadn’t noticed my face inching towards the glass until I felt a hand on my shoulder.
“I’ve been wondering if I’d bump into you around here,” said Jonah’s voice as I yelped in shock. “I guess you’re not allowed down to the tombs yet.”
His vibrant blue eyes sparkled as though lit internally. He must know how unusual he looked and make regular allowances for people who stare too long.
“Feel like grabbing some dinner?” he asked.
I nodded with a smile.
I followed Jonah to his car. When we emerged from underground parking, he turned onto the waterfront street I’d come to know so well. We turned south and the Inner Harbour unfolded in front of us. The panorama started with the vine-covered brick of The Empress hotel, the art deco façade of The Royal BC Museum, and the stylized domes of BC’s Provincial Parliament. The distinctive old world atmosphere quickly gave way to several huge and swanky hotels at the far edge of the Harbour. As we passed underneath, I looked up at each building. Old world Europe and contemporary American culture walked hand in hand here.
We reached the end of the Harbour and the coastline opened up around the corner. I saw a sign for ferries to the US in front of a giant concrete breakwater and a pub decorated with a helm wheel and a mural with starfish and orcas. The hazy soft blues of the ocean and sky were broken by the jagged edges of American snow-capped mountains on the horizon. The seaside sidewalk had a mix of young families, dog-walkers, and spry seniors in trendy windbreakers.
“You know what they say about the people here in Victoria, right?” said Jonah, as he watched me watch everyone else.
“No, I can’t say that I do. More money than they know what to do with?”
“True, but not as bad as Vancouver. Ever heard of the saying ‘newlyweds and nearly deads’ or as my mom says, ‘God’s waiting room.’”
“Kind of a dark way to look at things, isn’t it?”
“My mom’s a dark lady, but hilarious. I hope you don’t mind, but I also invited Cole and his sister. You’ll love this little restaurant. It’s got awesome food and live music, but not too hipster-ish,” said Jonah.
Something dropped in my chest. If Cole brought his sister, we were just a group of friends going for dinner. I felt silly for having thought that we were going on a date. We turned another corner and Jonah pulled the car over next to a brick building with a 50’s style neon sign that read ‘Cymbals’ next to a caricature of a drum set. I followed Jonah through the wrought iron gate and looked up at the oak tree on the lawn next to the patio. Tiny fresh leaves and new buds covered the gnarled old tree. It was also home to dozens and dozens of sneakers, canvas shoes, skate shoes, oxfords–basically any kind of shoe with laces to tie together.
The air felt warm enough to linger, so I walked over to the tree and looked upward. I smiled. I reached up to one of the lower branches and touched one of the shoes. The yard and the tree melted away. I saw the face of a girl with faintly bluish skin and platinum hair. She turned and I saw two leather-like wings flex and relax. Her shirt had been cut to make room for her wings which stretched out past the frayed edges of the fabric. She was standing in a sewer or catacomb.
Faces milled around the winged girl. It wasn’t quite like a party, maybe more like a camp.
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