Dead of Winter (The Beautiful Dead book 2)
“she calls out through the air that tosses our hair everywhere. “Not a thing or else it dies! All of it dies when we touch it! So we can’t touch it!”For a moment, I really wish she could be a friend. What a convenient way to travel. If all it took was a pair of enormous dragonfly wings, I could totally give this idea to Marigold and we’d have liftoff. How in the world a simple pair of insect wings is lifting her—or rather, us—into the air is simply impossible to fathom.I fight an urge to ask her... to let me go. I realize, from this great height, I most certainly do not want to be let go. I know all about “shattering” …“Do you like to fly?” she asks, her voice carrying the lunatic excitement of a person who needs to be medicated heavily and restrained to a bed.I stare down longingly at the world as it passes by, my heart heavy and strangled with terror of another kind. John is down there somewhere, and I hope he’s alive. As I drift along the colorless sky, unable anymore even to see the rainbow of Grim’s army, I feel like I’ve said goodbye to my friends without having said a word at all.“We’re almost there!”MoreLess
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