Jackson Deveaux személy
“You talking to yourself?” Jackson said. He’d paused on his way upstairs with a folding card table—so Mom wouldn’t have to go down.
Which was . . . considerate of him.
He climbed to the step just below me and murmured in that deep voice, “Um, um, UM, Evangeline. You dress up all pretty for me?”
Strike considerate. “Hardly.” When he just stared at me, I narrowed my eyes. “How long were you standing down there?”
“Long enough to know you’re fixing to break that promise you just made. Now, be polite, honey.”
You wouldn’t know polite if it bit you in the ass.
“Evie, if you ever get taken from me again, you better know that I’ll be coming for you.” He cupped my face with a bloodstained hand. “So you stay the hell alive! You doan do like Clotile, you doan take that way out. You and me can get through anything, just give me a chance”—his voice broke lower—“just give me a chance to get to you.” He buried his face in my hair, inhaling deeply. “There is nothing that can happen to you that we can’t get past.”
I notice a blood-soaked bandage wrapped tightly around his hand. He’s injured himself? I look closer. Not a bandage. Clutched in his grasp is . . . my poppy-red ribbon. The ribbon he’s saved since before the Flash.
– Nem szeretnél inkább Gastonnal dolgozni?
– Kérdeztem valamit. Miért akarsz lecserélni?
– Hát jó. Azért, mert amikor hétfőn elhajtottál mellettünk, úgy bámultál meg, mint egy regisztrált szexuális bűnöző.
– Egy szöszi felhúzza a szoknyáját, és odahajol hozzám. Még szép, hogy megbámulom.