Queen of the Dark Things Read Online Free

would do that to a friend isn’t really very much of a friend at all.”
    Martin nodded solemnly; it was a fair point. “I’m sorry to have bothered you.” He turned to leave.
    â€œWait.”
    Martin perked up, imagining for a second that Colby had changed his mind, and turned back around. “Yeah?”
    â€œYou forgot your book.”
    â€œOh. Yeah. Thank you.”
    Colby handed him the book and Martin slowly made his way out of the store.
    The bell on the door tinkled, and the store fell silent once more. Colby slumped onto the ground in a heap, weeping. Tears erupted, warm and glistening, down his cheeks. He sobbed openly, sure that he was alone. It was the first time in months that he had cried, and it was only then that he realized just how much he had let the emotions build up.
    He sat on the ground, his back to a bookshelf, rocking back and forth, running his hands through tufts of red hair, for a moment completely unguarded. Then the door tinkled again. Colby swallowed hard, quickly wiping his cheeks with his sleeve. “I’ll be right with you,” he said, spitting out a mouthful of swears beneath his breath.
    He stood up, haphazardly collecting himself, took a deep breath, and walked around a bookshelf to the front of the store.
    There stood a woman in her early to midthirties, very beautiful, clearly someone who had once been unbearably gorgeous, but was concealing the ravages of fatigue and sleepless nights with an oversize pair of sunglasses and a little too much makeup. She was frayed around the edges, nervous even to be there. Her clothing was expensive, her purse even more so. Everything about her shouted trophy wife at the top of its lungs. She looked over at Colby, slipping her sunglasses off to better see in the basement bookshop, immediately noticing his swollen eyes and tear-stained cheeks.
    â€œI’m sorry,” she said, fumbling to return her sunglasses to her eyes. “I can come back.”
    â€œNo, no, no,” he said, pointing to his eyes. “Allergies. The molds are killing me this year. How can I help you?”
    She looked around to see if anyone else was in the shop, certain that this young man was not who she was looking for. “I’m looking for someone named Colby . . .”
    Colby’s gaze fell to the floor. Crap.

C HAPTER 4
    T HE B ILLBOARD P SYCHIC
    T he billboard was large, colorful, and could be read clearly from the highway. PSYCHIC READINGS AND SPIRITUAL GUIDANCE . WALK - INS WELCOME . In the window hung a neon OPEN sign, lit and buzzing. It was a quaint little house, a faded blue box with a porch much fancier than its plain design seemed to deserve—large white columns reaching up to support an unimpressive overhang. There was something about it that felt like it belonged on the outskirts of a plywood-and-plank Wild West movie set instead of along a side street overlooking an interstate. But there it was. Cheap. Tawdry. Looming like a ten-dollar whore beckoning the curious to take a chance and see if it was worth the money after all.
    It reeked of sadness and disappointment.
    But Carol Voss was desperate. Her hands trembled as she pulled the keys from the ignition and fumbled them into her purse. This wasn’t the sort of place she expected to find herself. It was the last place in the world she wanted to try. It was also the last place she had left to turn to.
    As she stepped out of the car, she gave one last thought to turning back. Then she heard the wail again in the back of her mind, a chill running up her spine, shivering, gooseflesh prickling across her skin. There was no turning back now. What was waiting for her back home was far worse than any humiliation she might face inside. Here was only the chance to waste her money, which she had plenty of. She might as well give it a shot.
    The inside of the house was a cramped cluster of beads and fabric, the air thick with incense, almost every square