The Bone Artists by Madeleine Roux Read Free Book Online

.”
    He rambled on, but Ms. Marie was obviously no longer listening, but was recoiling, pressing herself tightly against theback of the chair. “Your family raised you better than this, boy.”
    â€œSo . . . they’re not good, then,” Oliver prompted. They weren’t, of course, he knew that, but judging by her reaction it was worse than he’d anticipated. What tipped you off, genius, the grave robbing or the creepy hideouts?
    Marie flicked her gaze between the two of them, shaking her head over and over again. He couldn’t tell if she was shivering or just swiveling her head back and forth, back and forth. . . . “Back when I was a girl you didn’t say those words. You didn’t speak that name. You speak that name you get all that’s evil in t’world coming to you.”
    â€œWhatever they do with these bones—” Micah began.
    She was swift to cut him off, lifting a hand as if she could stopper his lips herself. “I won’t repeat it. I won’t say it, I won’t. These folk—these are evil folk. The Bone Artists, they steal, and then they leave—body snatchers. Body thieves . They take your bones for black magics. Witchcraft . Satan’s friend, that prince of they’s is, He curse you and you’re never right in the spirit again.” Her voice rose and then fell to a sudden hush. She shook her head one last time, frowning, on the edge of tears as she looked at them as though they had both been taken far, far away.
    â€œYou won’t never be right in the spirit again.”
    â€œShe’s a little on the religious side, if you couldn’t tell,” Micah had said, dropping Oliver back at the shop that afternoon. He had leaned over toward the passenger seat and the rolled-down window, gesturing at where Oliver stood on the sidewalk. “I wouldn’t take everything she says seriously, all right? We’re not talking a pinch of salt, here, we’re talking the whole shaker. Imean, come on . . . Princes? Satan? I might believe in some dark stuff but let’s not go crazy.”
    â€œI’m sure you’re right,” Oliver said, conjuring a thin smile. “But all the same . . .”
    â€œNo, you’re right. Let’s cut and run while we’re ahead.” Micah gave him a salute and a wink, leaning back into the steering wheel. “You seeing Sabrina tonight?”
    â€œMaybe. It’s getting on to supper. You seeing Diane?” Over his shoulder, Oliver heard the distinctive sounds of a séance going on inside. He hated séance night at the shop but it always brought out a bunch of tourists.
    â€œDo you really have to ask?” He laughed, waggling his eyebrows. “Catch you later, man, we still need to do that big celebration. Don’t keep stalling!”
    â€œI’m not, I swear, just giving y’all time to plan the parade.”
    Micah snorted and honked the horn on his old Chrysler, pulling away from the curb and into the empty street.
    The voices inside the shop swelled to meet him, but he dodged the door, aiming instead for the family apartment. His pocket buzzed and he slipped out his phone, wincing as he read the display.
    The Dragon Lady.
    She had her answer, what more could she want from him?
    â€œYour answer is no? Is that your final decision?” it read.
    Oliver texted back furiously, lips pursed with aggravation. There was no doubt in his mind that he needed out. Now. She was poison and he refused to go back for another dose.
    The answer is and always will be: no. Leave me alone.
    He was just a few steps from their front door when her replycame, fast enough that Oliver hadn’t gotten his phone all the way inside his pocket. Just one word, and for some reason it chilled him more than her gaze or her sneer ever could.
    Pity.

H e jerked awake to Bon Jovi blaring into his pillow. Oliver flailed, grateful, for once, to be yanked out of his sleep. Out of