Urban fantasy reading Autumn Bones
Description
Vocal Characteristics
Language
EnglishVoice Age
Middle Aged (35-54)Accents
North American (General) North American (US General American - GenAM)Transcript
Note: Transcripts are generated using speech recognition software and may contain errors.
a short reading from my favorite author, Jacqueline Carey's book, Autumn Bones. The bad news Was that the fabulous Kazimierz failure meant that Emelin Palmer's power exceeded his by a considerable degree. The good news was that Cast was ****** off about it. Let me talk to the coven, he said to me, We'll schedule a ritual with the full circle. There's no way that she is a match for all of us. I'm not a gingerly okay, we can do this daisy, he promised me. Don't start looking for alternatives. You understand? You mean, my father? I asked. He shuttered. Health. Yes, I mean, your father, girl. I wasn't looking as always. I kept a tight lid on that thought, but as always it was there. And I had to admit, as I walked blindly home clinging to the arm and of uncharacteristically uncharacteristically quiet, jin, doing my best to support the painful balloon. That was my head. My tail lashing with impotent fury, that I was really ******* tired of being so ******* powerless in a position of responsibility. Powers of persuasion and seduction would come in really handy right about now. So what a splendid set of bat veined wings in a fiery whip. Just because oh the possibilities. But there was that whole business about cracking the in violet wall as much as I wanted to face down dear Emmy on my own terms, it certainly wasn't worth unleashing Armageddon and two in the back of my mind was the well dressed hellspawn lawyer I'd seen in the P. V. B. Office earlier that day attempting to work some kind of wiles on Amanda brooks. He'd smelled bad rancid. I didn't know what that was all about, what the lawyer was up to and why his presence and his apparent acceptance of his birthright didn't threaten the inviolate wall but I knew I didn't want that stink on me. As if on cue, jo jo. The joe pye weed fairy popped up from her looking place amid the rhododendrons alongside the alley by my apartment. Stupid wreaking slattern. She'd screeched at me in a brain drilling octave that didn't exist on any human scale. Not even Mariah Carrey's. It's in your bag.