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There’s no point in advertising a circus when everybody hates the clown.”
Daylight had not brought a solution, but it had accorded indifference.
“To have a family is real strange,” said India thoughtfully. “All these people you wouldn’t have anything to do with except that they’re related to you.
She opened her mouth to laugh, but no sound, only a long ribbon of white dry sand spilled out of it.
Worry, clever thought, conversation all were crushed by the weight of the atmosphere.
“He’d lick your balls if it put another dollar in his pocket. I hope you told him to fuck off.”
“What’s in that house, child, knows more than you know. What’s in that house don’t come out of your mind.
It does what it does to fool you, it wants to trick you into believing what’s not right. It’s got no truth to it.
“Are we protected now?” she asked. “We done all we could,” said Odessa, and went away again.
“Spirits living in hell don’t feel the heat. It’s spirits living in hell that causes heat like this, that’s what it is. Cain’t you feel ’em, child?”
But it wasn’t the moon—a face, pale and with only the barest suggestion of features, was slowly retreating from the window into the darkness of the third house.
When she stood, a long-fingered hand closed tightly over her ankle. Hard nails punctured her skin, and she felt her blood welling to the surface.
Something was leaning against the turret, on its shadowed shingles. The outline of an emaciated figure—something
“If anything happens,” Odessa said in a low voice, “eat my eyes . . .”
Her eyes were black with white pupils. Bloody sand spilled from her mouth.