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The Taken Chapter 4

The Taken Chapter 4

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Published by HarperVoyagerBooks
New York Times bestselling author Vicki Pettersson begins a breakout new series--a sexy, supernatural noir mystery featuring a fallen angel and a reporter.
New York Times bestselling author Vicki Pettersson begins a breakout new series--a sexy, supernatural noir mystery featuring a fallen angel and a reporter.

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Published by: HarperVoyagerBooks on Jun 11, 2012
Copyright:Attribution Non-commercial


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Chapter Four 
he graveyard-shit waitress in the roadside caé was bleary-eyed and slow. The short-order cook was uninspired, andmore interested in the activity going on outside the attachedmotel where Rockwell had died. And the vinyl booth wasripped in so many places it was impossible to sit comortably.But the coee was hot, melting the last o Gri’s cosmic thaw,though he wouldn’t have wished the runny eggs and burnedtoast or anyone’s frst meal back on the Suraceor their last. Yet it didn’t matter much to Gri. He couldn’t taste it. TheEverlast must have somehow lash-ried his senses. He couldn’teel the ork in his hand, either—not the way he should, atleast. His eyesight was clearer, but ater the Technicolor wondero the Everlast, it was small comort. Yet his nose worked wellenough that he was thankul not to be in Jimmy’s trash pileany longer, so he supposed that was something.
But his hearing was hollow and tinny, probably about rightor an eighty-our-year-old man.
You’re not human.
No shit, he thought, moving his shoulders. The blades stillached where Anas had ripped the wings rom his back. Yet when he inally looked up rom his empty plate, theheadache dogging him was gone, and he almost elt a part o the world. So, belching lightly, he got down to the business o locating Ms. Craig.The map alone didn’t help; Sarge had been right about that.But a journey was rarely a straight shot rom point A to pointB. It was the landmarks and details that made all the dier-ence. The bent street sign and the shity-eyed man leaningagainst it. The car parked in the wrong direction on a residen-tial street.
The intricate brick face on the Strip-side bungalow where hedied 
. Yeah, details he remembered.Fortunately, the waitress wasn’t so comatose that shecouldn’t point out the diner’s location, south o Sunrise Moun-tain just o o Boulder Highway. Outside the window, sel-storage units rose like tombstones rom each side o the street,and trailer parks squatted behind those. So he knew where he was but still not where he was going.Vegas’s streets hadn’t changed that much, he thought,squinting at the black-and- white grid. Though there werecertainly more o them. And the place sprawled like it couldgo on orever. He remembered a time when the Boys tried topay their entertainers in real estate. The talent had laughedand held out their hand or hard coin instead. Who, they said, would want to own land in this gloriied litter box?

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