Coming June 3, 2008
Now Available
Blood Poison
~
Body Trace
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~
The bulging trash bag snagged on a rock and tore, spilling eggshells, orange peels and coffee grounds as Dottie dragged it across the dirt. They weren't even supposed to be in there, but at this point, she didn't really care. Soon, she'd be gone, and she wasn't going to miss the place one bit.
It took both hands and a grunt to heft the bag over the edge of the trash can. Just as she let go, her arms still raised in front of her, she felt a strange, sharp pressure, like someone punching her in the back. At the same time, she heard a faint, hiccupping gasp that sounded like it had come from someplace far away. It took her a moment to realize the noise had come from her own mouth.
Surprised, she tried to turn around, to see what was going on behind her, but she found herself rooted in place. A dull tingling started in her feet and quickly spread up her legs. Feeling unsteady, she reached out to the porch post for support and as she did, the underside of her arm brushed against something sharp and cold and wet, causing a deep scratch that stung. When she lifted her arm to examine the cut, she saw what had caused it: six inches of some sort of blade, protruding from between her breasts, glistening with blood.
Donna LaMott raised her hand to knock a little bit harder on the door to room six of the Alpha Alpha Gamma sorority house. As her knuckles were just about to make contact, the door to room five opened instead.
Valerie Chirelli's head poked out. "For Christ's sake," she said coldly, leaning against the door jamb, "if it's that important, just go on inside."
Chirelli looked rough, with big bags under her eyes like she'd been partying all night. Nothing unusual there, Donna thought.
"But if you knock on that door one more time," Chirelli continued, "you'll be spending the fall semester in a wheelchair."
Donna tried to think of something smart to say, but her brain didn't work like that. She made a face instead and opened up the door. The first thing that hit her was the smell, then the heat. The windows were open, but even so, mixed with the smell of Beth's paints was something else, a sickly sour stench, hanging there in the stifling heat.