Sorrow's Crown Read Online Free PDF Page A

wondered if the ducks they shot would know the difference.
    I knew that if I ever did move back to Felicity Grove I'd actually have to go to work for Oscar, or someone like him, and get involved with an occupation I didn't want to become involved in, most likely dealing with chickens or weapons.
    "Come on," I said, and Anubis trotted beside me.
    We headed back to the flower shop. I had a key and let myself in, but I always felt vaguely unsettled being in here without Katie. The floral arrangements had a real style to them, aesthetic with a flair for color and design. The refrigeration units thrummed dully, leaving cold patches and drafts. A slight vibration worked through the floor. The empty space at the side of the store appeared to be too confining for a possible bookstore. I shut my eyes and saw the place the way she always talked about it, then looked around and tried to see the same picture. Nothing came together.
    I leaned against a wall and pretended to pull a book from a shelf and read, moving to peruse stacks of Harlequin romances, bird-watcher guidebooks, and football trivia, while coyly giggling at erotica written by "Anonymous" or "M" or "J." The sweetly cloying scent of flowers started to overcome me, that irksome vibration making my feet twitch. I could see myself becoming extremely whiny here.
    "What do you think?" I asked.
    Anubis remained the perfect partner for such discussions because he always grumbled like an older, more prudent investor. He sniffed around some plant-growth and discovered a patch of irresistibly lickable matter in a spider plant unfurled all over the floor. I had an image of the soil erupting with alien life, tendrils drawing him inside while mutant fauna jaws scarfed him down. I thought my mind would wander a lot like that while customers asked me if I carried back issues of Playboy or Soldier of Fortune magazines.
    Anubis approached, sat, and stared at me as if he also saw my superiority complex showing. His tail thumped twice, expectantly. He grumbled some more.
    "Okay."
    I went to the refrigerator and took out some tulips, my mother's favorite. He started to growl, understanding their significance.
    He didn't like the cemetery. It seemed like I was the only one who did.
    ~ * ~
    At the cemetery, called Felicity Grave, an indistinct odor caught on the stiff breeze.
    Leaves whirled. Rocky, root-strewn areas looked equally as well-kept as the flawlessly mowed grass jutting between the rows of markers. Bushes were impeccably pruned, dead branches and stumps cleared and toted away. Lawns remained lush, sweeping trimmed carpets that wound among the knolls and embankments, flowing down into the ravines of potter's field. Even the rubble of ancient angels, martyred saints, and scarred Madonnas wasn't neglected, the stone scrubbed clean.
    I left the tulips on my parents' graves, brushing my fingers over their tombstones as I usually did. Certain formalities would stay with me forever. Wildflowers blossomed in erratic strips across the hollows, never hindered by unseasonable temperatures or heavy waves of sleet. The green had returned to some spindly tress growing among the more ornate and statuesque memorials. The old family mausoleums stood like granite condos. Anubis' mouth opened as I let him off the leash. The wind picked up a little.
    Shifting breeze brought a wafting pungency.
    "I am here, Jon!"
    Anubis never growled at children or Crummler , but now he hunkered in the dirt, his head weaving as though trying to shake off dizziness, unable to draw a bead on Crummler . He followed me down the hillock, and the stink hit us at the same time. Crummler waved and pranced, bearing something.
    An ugly sound worked free from the back of Anubis' throat, deep and lethal in its animosity. Hard ridges of his outlined muscles rose in the black fur, his hackles stiff; he held his snout low, tongue jutting, showing a lot of fang. The scent worked on him, his nostrils flaring, those black eyes beginning to