The Incrementalists
“Phil, and four other guys. Weird. Not bad, but weird.
I opened my eyes, and almost screamed. Phil’s villa must have been in Pompeii; it was hip-deep in black sludge and everything—the walls and trees, the courtyard and fountain—were coated in, or melting into, the ashy mud. Phil made a noise between a whimper and a moan, his mouth reaching for mine. I couldn’t talk, only try to kiss comfort onto his lips for the destruction of his Garden. He took it hungrily.
“It’s fine now, Phil.”
“No sign of Ren’s Garden bleeding over anymore, Phil.”
“Yup, nice and solid here.”
“Oh, for the love of God, Phil!”
I lost Phil’s mouth and opened my eyes. Jimmy had one beefy hand on my shoulder and one on Phil’s, his substantial bulk imposed between our bodies. “That should do nicely, thank you, you two,” he said.
Phil beamed blearily at him.
Oskar had stalked off to one end of the courtyard. Matsu wandered to the other. Ramon was still standing near us, studying his nail beds with unwarranted interest.
Write Review:
User Reviews: