Dark Alchemy Read Online Free PDF

Maria started it. The engine vibrated with a satisfying idle, deep and loud enough that Petra had to shout to be heard above it.“Smells like oil.”
    â€œYeah. It burns about a quart every three months. Wasn’t worth it to track down the leak.”
    Petra nodded and dropped the heavy steel hood down with a puff of dust. Maria shut the engine off, but the sound still roared in her ears. Petra stepped up on the running board and peered into the interior. The vinyl seats were intact, and a fist-­sized charm made of citrine beads clicked from the rearview mirror. But she was more interested in the shotgun in the backseat.
    â€œIs that for sale, too?”
    Maria shook her head. “Sorry. But the pawn shop could probably hook you up.”
    â€œWhere’s that?”
    â€œTwo streets over. Stan’s Dungeon.”
    â€œSounds like an S&M shop.”
    Maria cracked a smile. “Nah. Though you can probably score some handcuffs there, if that’s your thing.”
    Petra shook her head. “I’ll pass. But thanks for the info.” Her fingertips lingered on the hot dashboard. “Eight hundred bucks? Can I take it today for cash?”
    â€œEight hundred bucks and a ride back to the reservation,” Maria amended.
    â€œDeal.” Petra extended her hand, and Maria grasped it, bracelets chiming.
    At that moment, Frankie came stumbling from the bar into the street. He patted his pockets, looked right, left, and then fixated on a box truck parked on the curb ahead of the Bronco. A man in jeans and a black cowboy hat was loading fence posts and coils of barbed wire into the back from the hardware store next door. In this heat, he was wearing long sleeves, buttoned at the wrist. A raven paced on the roof of the truck, watching the man in the hat work.
    â€œHey, you!” Frankie stabbed a finger at the man in the black hat. “Shouldn’t you be back at the ranch, sucking Rutherford’s cock?”
    The man in the hat ignored him, throwing sharpened fence posts into the back of the truck as if they were foam pool noodles and not hardwood four-­by-­fours. The raven stopped pacing, turned its unblinking obsidian eyes toward Frankie.
    Maria grabbed the old man’s arm and dragged him toward the Bronco. “Time to go, Frankie.”
    But Frankie wasn’t through shooting his mouth off. “You digging graves for him? He got you digging your own?”
    The man at the truck looked up then. Under the shade of his hat burned the coldest, most distant look Petra had ever seen. Petra had only seen a look that remote on a corpse.
    â€œWatch your mouth, old man. Or the next grave could be yours.” His voice was barely a whisper, but the threat in his amber eyes chilled Petra’s blood. The man turned his back to them and continued to load the truck, while the raven continued to stare at Frankie, fluffing its wings.
    â€œ Frankie, ” Maria hissed. “ Shut the hell up. ”
    â€œHe ain’t right. Rutherford’s boys aren’t natural. The raven told me.” Frankie flailed as Maria attempted to shovel him into the car.
    Awesome. She forgot that the drunk guy was coming along for the ride, too. Petra hoped he didn’t barf in the Bronco, since she was pretty sure that the mess was now hers.
    â€œGet in the truck, Frankie,” Maria said, slamming the door after him. Frankie wormed to the other side and slithered out the opposite door. Petra saw him snatch a fence post from the ground. The raven cawed, a harsh, raw sound.
    â€œLook out!” Petra shouted.
    Frankie swung on the man in the hat. The fence post crashed into his back with an audible crack. The stranger slumped against the side of the truck. Frankie swung and struck the man again, hitting so hard that the man’s shoulder dented the side panel of the truck on impact. Blood spattered on the dingy paint. The raven fluttered down from the roof of the truck,