Storm of Locusts (The Sixth World, #2)

by Rebecca Roanhorse

“Isn’t the apocalypse a little ‘been there, done that’? I mean, didn’t we just have a massive world-destroying flood? Earthquakes? Wars? What, did they miss the memo?”

don’t ask her what life-threatening trauma brought on her clan powers. Us trauma survivors try to respect each other’s boundaries. And I’m fairly impressed that she’s not hiding her powers. I did when I was her age. Actually, I just lived with a supernatural warrior and avoided human contact. We all deal in different ways.

“That guy on the screen had me distracted. I’m bi, but I usually don’t go for boys. Too much ego, if you know what I mean, but I can appreciate the lovely wherever I see it.”

“You want a drink?” Ben asks me. “Aren’t you a little young to be drinking?” Ben rolls her eyes. “Pretty sure there’s no drinking age in the apocalypse.” She tilts her head to give me a look.

I pull my knees to my chest, feeling myself irrationally offended at being rejected by a sentient casino.

I exhale, feeling foolish. “Hello, sword,” I whisper. “In Diné!” he says. “Sword don’t speak English.”

“They are devourers.” “Oh yes,” he admits. “But where they cleanse the earth, new life grows. They destroy to make room for the new.” “I’m not interested in destroying anything or anyone.” “Says the girl with the gun.”

“Leave her alone. She’s injured. Plus, I’ve heard she melts if you hug her too much.”

“Magic, medicine, science, and a little luck. If I had duct tape, I’d throw that in too.”