Trick of the Light Read Online Free PDF

with the name of his tribe when they asked: the Tribe of None of Your Fucking Business.
    These two weren’t that stupid. They were already headed for the door. Despite his hawk nose, lightly copper skin, and black hair that hung to his waist, all of which made Leo one fine-looking man, he’d tired a long time ago of the tourists’ American Indian fascination. Shaking his head in disgust, he tossed a towel over his shoulder and disappeared into the kitchen. A minute or two later Lenore came flapping about and posted on his roost anchored to the bar.
    “I’ve never figured out how you get away with him when the health inspector ’s around.” Griffin, my usual late-breakfast crowd, moved up and sat on a stool in a blue shirt, some horrifically expensive brand naturally, and artfully faded jeans.
    “Ah. Then watch this.” I looked at Lenore. “Health inspector, Lenore.”
    Immediately the raven froze, dark eyes glassy, chest unmoving. Then he slowly pitched forward until he hung upside down from the perch, possibly the dead est stuffed bird ever seen.
    Griffin gave a low whistle. “I’m impressed. He never did that when we worked here.”
    “Yes, he did. Lenore’s special. He’s been around a long, long time.” And then some. Doing tricks was the very least of his repertoire. “He’s an old fart.”
    I tapped him on his back and he sprang back up, pecking me on the hand in outrage, and cawing, “Nevermore, ass-wipe. Nevermore.”
    “You just didn’t stick around long enough to see his little trick then,” I went on, stepping back out of beak range. “You and Zeke were still not precisely seeing eye to eye with the local authorities yourself. You’d be hiding in the back. And watch the language, Lenore.” If I could give it a shot, so could he.
    I’d known what Griffin and Zeke were the minute I caught them loitering in my alley, ready to scour the Dumpster for food. They were homeless when I hired them, and just . . . lost—lost as you can get. I’d given them the job of keeping the storage rooms cleaned up and pretended I didn’t know they slept there—two kids with two changes of clothes and literally nothing else. We didn’t serve real food at Trixsta, but we served bar food—anything fried with cheese—and I let them eat free and take what was left over at the end of the night. And I’d run them over to the diner to fetch supper for Leo and me every night. Four meals instead of just two—Zeke simply ate his and didn’t wonder why I did this. Griffin wondered, wanted me to take it out of the money I paid them, but gave up when I scowled and threatened him with bathroom puke duty every night. After that he just worked harder and mooned after me like a puppy for a few months. It was cute and at least he didn’t piddle on the floor.
    “You never asked back then.” He picked up a glossy black feather that had fallen to the bar. No more the teenager with a crush. He was a man now and a good one. I liked to think I had something to do with that. “What we were running from.”
    “At first it wasn’t my business.” Or rather, they didn’t want it to be my business. I started scooping the ice into the bins. “And later I figured it out. Zeke.”
    The blue eyes darkened. “The social workers told those goddamn foster parents to watch him. Told them to never leave him alone. I should’ve known better than to think they actually listened. I should’ve been there.” He shook away the guilt, at least the visible kind. “They never cared about us and they especially never cared about what Zeke needed.” He dropped the feather. It twisted once in the air before drifting down. “And don’t ask me what happened, all right? Don’t.”
    “I won’t.” I’d just wait until the time came. I picked the feather back up and handed it to him. “Keep the feather. Raven feathers are good luck.”
    “Like that?” He reached forward and lightly touched the teardrop around my neck. “Is that good