a female voice urged her. “We are on the ground.” Rachel opened her eyes and slowly focused them on a face that was ready to play the role of Carmen at a moment’s notice. All the woman had to do was take the little stewardess cap off her pile of hair. “That’s the way,” she said, smiling. She had missed a tomato seed caught between her front teeth, but you had to be front row center to see it. “There’s no time for sleeping in Paris.” But sleep was all she wanted. She felt a filament of saliva against her cheek and wiped it away with her sleeve before moving to stand up. The seat belt kept her firmly in place. The stewardess found it amusing. “What have you been doing to get so sleepy?” she tut-tutted, reaching down to undo the buckle. She led Rachel off the empty plane. A sodden sheet of gray had been thrown across Paris, hiding the sky. It dripped steadily on the city, making the old buildings look just plain old. It couldn’t do anything to the new ones that hadn’t already been done.
What do You think about The Fury Of Rachel Monette?
