162
" The boy from that morning stood idly in the doorframe, once again wearing that maddening smirk. “Mort doesn’t really believe in cooking,” he said, swinging into the room. He opened the freezer door and nimbly transferred a pie from the box to the microwave. “He calls it a waste of time and sulfuric acid.”
Lex attempted to disguise the mangled expression of intrigue and annoyance that had involuntarily appeared on her face. “And you would know because you’re his . . .”
“Pool boy.”
“There is no pool!” She turned to Uncle Mort, the ire rising once again. “What is he doing here?”
Uncle Mort heaved an overdramatic shrug. “What are any of us doing here, really?” he said, waving his hands philosophically.
“Jesus. You’re both evil.”
“That’s no way to talk about your uncle,” her uncle said.
“Or your partner,” Driggs added.
“What?” Lex squawked, a whole new stew of emotions bubbling over. Not knowing what else to do, she grabbed the salt shaker and hurled it at him, followed by the pepper. “You’re my partner?”
Driggs caught both items and began to juggle. “Yes, he is,” said Uncle Mort. “And in case you’ve forgotten, you still have a full week of training left—training that I can easily cancel and turn into a one-way ticket back home if you keep acting like a troglodyte.” Lex frowned, but lowered the sugar bowl she had readied. “So you two better find a way to get along. Now hug it out.”
“No way.” She eyed Driggs. “I’m not hugging that.”
“Oh yes you are.” Uncle Mort was enjoying this little show. “Befriend or else.”
She had no choice. Careful to avoid Driggs’s gaze, Lex reluctantly entered into the frosty embrace.
“You have no intention of befriending, do you?” Driggs whispered.
“I’d rather take a bath with a toaster. "
― Gina Damico , Croak (Croak, #1)
165
" Who’s that man you were talking to?”
“Oh, that’s Norwood. He was checking you in for your first shift. I’ll introduce you tomorrow.”
She made a face. “No rush.”
“I mean, you were scheduled to have a brief orientation with him today, but you know, you needed your beauty sleep, so we don’t have time. Are you aware, Lex, that sloth is a deadly sin?”
She made a face at him, then glanced back at the hallway. She thought she could make out a bustle of activity behind the array of frosted glass tiles that lined its right-hand wall, but Uncle Mort ushered her out the front door too quickly for her to get a closer look.
“Wait, we’re done here?”
“Well, I was going to show you around upstairs as well, but—”
“No time. Sloth. I get it.”
“Deadly sin. "
― Gina Damico , Croak (Croak, #1)
169
" I don’t get it,” she said. “I mean, why teenagers? Why pick the most immature people on earth to handle such a huge responsibility?”
Driggs looked up at the stars, then back at Lex. “You know Charlie and the Chocolate Factory?”
Lex stared.
“The world of pure imagination?” he added.
“I’m familiar with the world of pure imagination,” Lex said dryly. “I’m just skeptical as to how manufacturing candy is in any way similar to reaping mortal souls.”
“You know how at the end, Willy Wonka gives Charlie the factory?” Driggs went on. “Do you remember the reason he chose a child?”
“Yeah, he said adults would want to do everything their own way, whereas a child—”
“Would learn all the secrets,” said Driggs, “and keep them secret.” He flicked a pebble off the roof. “I mean, now that you’ve seen what really goes on here, have you thought for even a second of ratting us out?”
“No, but—” The wordless anxiety that had been pumping through her veins ever since Uncle Mort touched that old woman came spilling out all at once. “I just find it disturbing that people—we ordinary, mortal, dumbass people—are in charge of all this. And we’ve covered it up for, what, millennia? You really expect me to believe that?”
“Just because it’s the biggest secret in the history of the world doesn’t make it any less true.”
Even Lex couldn’t think of a snarky answer to this.
“Did I just blow your mind?” Driggs asked. “I think I just blew your mind.” With that, he pulled out a handful of at least a dozen Oreos from his pocket and shoved three into his mouth "
― Gina Damico , Croak (Croak, #1)
170
" You really think stopping here is a good idea?” Lex asked her uncle, eyeing the buffalo. A strange decoration for a small-town deli, to be sure, but then again Lex wasn’t really up to date on the interior design trends of small-town upstate New York.
“Of course,” Uncle Mort said, counting out a stack of bills and placing them on the counter. “Don’t you think a cross-country run-for-our-lives road trip just screams ‘time for a picnic’?”
“I would not have thought that, no.”
“Well, that’s because you’re a total noob.”
The girl reappeared behind the counter with two bagfuls of wrapped sandwiches. “That’ll be sixty-seven dollars and two cents,” she said, smiling sweetly at Uncle Mort.
“Thanks,” he said, giving her a wink as he handed her the bills. “Keep the change, hon.”
She giggled. Lex rolled her eyes.
“Smooth move, Clooney,” Lex said as they exited the deli. “Do we need to pencil in some time for a sexy rendezvous? I think there’s a motel down the street that rents rooms by the hour.”
“Pop quiz, hotshot: Let’s say someone shows up in this town and starts asking questions about a hooligan band of teenagers accompanied by two ghosts, an ancient woman, and a devastatingly attractive chaperone. Which one do you think that girl will be more likely to remember?”
Lex grumbled. “The chaperone.”
“You seem to have forgotten a couple of key adjectives there.”
“Oh, I didn’t forget.”
“Believe me, that girl won’t dream of ratting us out. Especially now that I’ve bestowed upon her the Wink of Trust.”
Lex snorted. “The Wink of Trust?”
“Has gotten me out of more trouble than you can imagine. I suggest you try it some time. Add it to your already overflowing arsenal of charm. "
― Gina Damico , Rogue (Croak, #3)
173
" And you’re the only ones who have discovered this? The scientific world is still in the dark about the mystical powers of death-knelling invertebrates?”
“Biologists don’t have access to the same knowledge that we do,” said Uncle Mort, “and therefore don’t have the technology to fully realize the abilities of our dear gelatinous friends.”
Lex opened her mouth, then closed it. What was the point?
“That’s why the machines are called Smacks,” Driggs said, “because ‘smack’ is the technical term—”
“For a group of jellyfish,” Lex finished.
He looked at her in disbelief. Or admiration. It was hard to tell. “How did you know that?”
“It’s not very nice of you to just assume I’m a raging idiot such as yourself.”
“Oh, I would never assume what I already know to be true.”
“Don’t think I won’t blacken that other eye.”
“Don’t think I won’t laugh heartily at your futile attempt.”
“Kids,” said Uncle Mort. “Coexist, please "
― Gina Damico , Croak (Croak, #1)
174
" So here’s the drill. Every morning you’ll come here to the Bank to check in with the Etceteras.”
“Wait, what?”
“Etceteras. ETC stands for Ether Traffic Controllers, and the nickname just evolved from there.”
“What does that make us, then?”
“Well, technically,” said Uncle Mort, “we’re called Gamma Removal and Immigration Managers—”
“But are more commonly known as Grims,” Driggs said.
“Can’t say I approve of the term.” Uncle Mort flourished his razor-sharp scythe and smiled. “We’re not that grim, are we?”
Lex snickered. "
― Gina Damico , Croak (Croak, #1)
176
" Someone’s going to recognize us,” Lex said to Uncle Mort without looking at him or moving her lips.
“No, they’re not,” he said, staring forward, keeping the same straight face. “The guards aren’t even watching.”
He was right. What few guards were left in the lobby were scattered, disorganized. They shouted for the citizens to remain calm, all the while sounding fairly panicked themselves. No one knew what had happened, as the only witnesses were now casually strolling toward the front door without a single eye looking their way.
Until the receptionist let out a shriek. “There they are!”
Uncle Mort let out a huff of defeat. “Mar-lene,” he whined. “I thought we were cool.”
“So much for the Wink of Trust,” Lex said. "
― Gina Damico , Rogue (Croak, #3)
179
" There, just off the path, was a tiny opening in the trees that Lex had passed right by without even noticing. It led to a narrow dirt lane that twisted through a mass of craggy shrubberies and ultimately disappeared in a patch of trees.
“Here we are,” said Driggs in a chipper voice. “Off you go, special superpowery second-generation Grim.”
Lex bit her lip and stared at the scary path. “Okay.”
“Okay then.”
“I’m going.”
“Bon voyage.”
He wasn’t letting her back out of this one, not when she’d been so cocky. Tentatively, she tiptoed through the opening and into the trees, her sneakers kicking up leaves left and right.
One minute and seven seconds later she burst back out onto the path, panting and clutching her stomach.
“Ready to move in?” Driggs asked wryly.
Lex was so grateful he didn’t say “I told you so,” she fell in love with him all over again. “I don’t think Ikea delivers to creepy enchanted forests,” she choked out.
“Pity. I so love the neighborhood. "
― Gina Damico , Scorch (Croak, #2)
180
" Her foot rammed into a mossy log, knocking her off balance. Even in the fading light she could see that there was nothing up ahead but more forest. She looked at the ground. The path had disappeared.
“There’s no road left,” she said, panic in her voice. She whipped her head around to face Driggs. “So Dead End really is a dead end?”
He smirked at her. “What, you thought it was just a cute name?”
“Driggs,” she said, trying to keep her tone steady, “show me the way to that cabin, or I swear to God I’ll feed you to the first bear that inevitably shows up to eat us. "
― Gina Damico , Scorch (Croak, #2)
