Invasion of the Blanche (Strange Totems Book 2) by Corey Mariani (best love novels of all time .txt) 📕

the bottle. “Unfortunately, we don’t have time for that. In less than an hour, she’ll be invading the other stomachs. We gotta think about those people. They got lives too.” He took the bottle from me. “This will save one person, though, and I’ll make sure it does before this is over.”

He was right. Even if I ignored the plight of the other stomachs, Blanche would always be able to infect people faster than I could cure them. I looked at the bottle, enough scrill to save one person. I wondered if Lou would choose someone randomly to save, or if he had someone in mind.

“I didn’t want to ask Em,” Lou said, lowering his voice almost to a whisper. “But I gotta know. Where’s May?”

“Dead,” I said, looking him in the eyes. “Regurgitated.”

Lou took a long breath through his nose, looked up at the ceiling, then growled as he breathed out through his mouth. He did this two more times, and on the last one, his growl sounded more like a moan. His eyes shone with tears, but none spilled out. Seeing his emotions brought mine to the surface, and I had to fight back my own tears.

He put a hand on my shoulder. “I know I was tough on you, kid. But that’s because I knew what you were up against. These are the most twisted people I’ve come across, and I’ve tangled with the worst. This whole thing, it’s not your fault. You understand? It was a setup from the beginning. This isn’t your fault. You’re a good kid.” He patted my shoulder.

“Thanks.” I turned away to keep from crying. I put my coat back on, and we left the flower shop and walked up the increasingly crowded sidewalk. We squeezed between bodies, against the current, a canopy of umbrellas over our heads. We literally rubbed elbows with Blanche’s subconscious, relying on some old clothes and bad wigs to conceal us from her. Fear dried my mouth. I tried to relax my body and appear nonchalant, but I kept expecting to hear someone say, “Hello Charlie” in Blanche’s sing-songy way.

After a short while, the infected became so numerous Lou and I could barely move. Everyone was waddling from side to side like penguins and getting nowhere. Blanche was packing the entire population of the county into these two little towns separated by the Eel River.

We dipped down an alley and turned up a much less crowded street, although it, too, was lined with exhibits commemorating the ’64 Flood. We moved swiftly now, but not enough to draw attention to ourselves.

Lou abruptly joined the back of an audience standing on the corner watching a puppet show being performed on the other side of a shop window. For a second, I feared he’d been infected, but then Kaliah turned around and shined her eyes on me, stepped close, rested her umbrella on my shoulder, raised up onto her toes, and kissed me. Her lips were soft and wet and vaguely sweet.

As I reached to put my hand on her waist, she withdrew, smiled up at me, and said, “In case the world ends.”

Em/Suzanne turned around at that, followed by the rest of our party, all wearing vintage clothes and blond wigs. Zelda’s snout peeked out between the buttons of Em/Suzanne’s trench coat. I was happy to see them all, even Bruce and Pam, though I was still flustered from Kaliah’s kiss.

“I told you you were in trouble,” Lou said.

“Why’s he in trouble?” Em/Suzanne said.

Kaliah still smiled at me. I couldn’t help smiling back. My eyes must have shined as bright as hers. Giddy little sprites danced in my stomach. I forgot all my troubles. I’d felt awful for hurting her feelings earlier, but now I felt buoyant and volatile all at once, and grateful that this beautiful and enigmatic and strangely funny woman had chosen me to be the home for her affections.

“There isn’t much time left. Let’s go,” Lou said, calling me back to our plight, but not breaking the spell completely. As I and the rest followed him, I bounced along, stealing glances at Kaliah like a junior high kid. This is nice, Zelda said.

This is mine, I said, appalled.

This is the universe’s. Get over yourself.

When we reached the north end of town, we climbed up the last highway onramp, past parked cars and crowds walking in the other direction. Our disguises were still working. No one gave us a second look. On the highway, the cars stretched to the north as far as I could see. One of the southbound lanes had been left clear to shuttle people from their parking spots to town on golf carts with long bench seats in the back. The high water was lapping at both sides of the road.

Lou slid on his gas mask and approached a cart that had just unloaded its passengers. He sprayed the driver in the face with one of his poisons, then pointed a pocket laser at the ground and swirled it around. The driver jumped out and ran after the red dot with a single-minded intensity. I almost felt sorry for the guy. That had been me not much earlier.

“Get in,” Lou said, leading the driver farther down the road with the laser.

We piled onto the bench seats, and Lou drove us off as the next shuttle arrived, our tires momentarily losing traction on the wet concrete, the electric engine whirring. Feeling the wind against my cheeks, I gazed at the tree-covered hills looming over us from the east, their tops hidden by the clouds and rain-haze, and I felt hope.

Then a seagull flew up next to us, keeping pace at eye-level. Another joined it, and another. They called. I looked ahead. Two more seagulls flew above an oncoming shuttle.

“Lou!” I said, but I was too late. The oncoming shuttle veered for us at the last second. Lou wrenched the wheel to the left, and we plunged into the flooded ditch between the roads.