DEAD TO SIN (FATE TRACE #3) BY GENNA BLACK – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Authors: Genna Black
- Language: English
- Genre: Contemporary romance
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 3.4 MB
- Price: Free
KIERNAN
ONE YEAR LATER…
Every day for the past four and a half years, I’ve woken up to the looming
presence of death. Longer, even, considering I grew up with Samael
Messor as an uncle. He’d lived and breathed for the lifeless and breathless,
his taste for the macabre something he’d always hoped to pass onto me
despite my complete and utter aversion to his line of work.
The flight back to Fate Trace had been quick and easy, but since the
moment I’d stepped off the plane and onto the jet bridge, an overwhelming
sense of dread and uncertainty had settled over me. Each step towards my
potential new home felt heavier, and now that I was in the throes of what
I’d come to do, I wasn’t sure leaving again would be an option.
It had been a full year since I last visited.
A full year since Iris.
Now, I had torn myself away from my comfortable life, said goodbye to
co-workers and friends, and relocated across the country for this. It felt like
the right thing to do—taking over the family business—despite the doubt
that had crept in during the process. My old boss had reassured me that if
things didn’t work out, I could always return to my previous job. His words
echoed in my mind as I looked around me.
I was used to working in a stale environment. My day-to-day was
predictable. Monotonous. The clinical feel of working in a commercial
funeral parlor was so very different from the home my uncle had made for
himself here at Messor Memorial.
There was too much of him here; too much that felt like home to me
because he’d once touched it.
Uncle Sammy had smoked like a freight train for as long as I could
remember. It was so very like him not to take his doctors seriously. He’d
become insensible in his old age and despite having kept in regular contact
with him, it wasn’t until he was all but moribund that I’d fully grasped just
how uncontrolled his blood pressure had been.
Less than a month after his debilitating stroke, I’d gotten the news that
he died. And now he was here, his muscle mass wasted away to nearly
nothing, lying on the mortuary table I’d recently inherited from him. It was
hard to believe this was the uncle who used to carry me around on his broad
shoulders when I was a child. I would miss him.
I already did.
The familiar strains of Eine kleine Nachtmusik filled the room, their
animated and cheerful quality standing in stark contrast with what I was
about to do.
I carefully measured and poured the vibrant dye concentrate into the
embalming fluid tank, watching as the liquid turned a deep shade of
crimson, taking the first steps to ensure that Sammy looked as restored to
his usual rosy-cheeked state as possible, given the circumstances. The
sterile scent of formaldehyde lingered in the air, tangling with the bright
notes of the music.
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