Author: Kami Garcia
My rating: 2 of 5 stars
Shelves: hot-like-meh, fantasy-pr-everything-untoward, crappy-creepy-romance
I never believed in ghosts. Until one tried to kill me. When Kennedy Waters finds her mother dead, her world begins to unravel. She doesn’t know that paranormal forces in a much darker world are the ones pulling the strings. Not until identical twins Jared and Lukas Lockhart break into Kennedy’s room and destroy a dangerous spirit sent to kill her. The brothers reveal that her mother was part of an ancient secret society responsible for protecting the world from a vengeful demon — a society whose five members were all murdered on the same night. Now Kennedy has to take her mother’s place in the Legion if she wants to uncover the truth and stay alive. Along with new Legion members Priest and Alara, the teens race to find the only weapon that might be able to destroy the demon — battling the deadly spirits he controls every step of the way. Suspense, romance, and the paranormal meet in this chilling urban fantasy, the first book in a new series from Kami Garcia, bestselling coauthor of the Beautiful Creatures novels.
WARNING: So instead of a review, I took a (my first) shot at writing fanfiction. OF Supernatural. To elucidate my feelings on the book through Dean’s torture. Not for little munchkins.
(Set sometime during Season 7)
A good day to die. Sunbeams drilling into Dean’s eyes, birds twittering like he’s a fucking little elf, Sam being a little bitch again.
“…Dean you don’t understand! It’s not healthy to obsess over your fan fiction unless you’re Mark Gatiss or God forbid! Castiel, not while you’re you…”
“Quite being a little bitch, Sam.”
Dean tunes Sam out, who is dancing around in circles because apparently, it isn’t simply enough that he speak like a rabbit, he had to act like one too. For the complete effect, you see, making it easier for Dean to pretend and immerse himself in this scene where Sam and errr…Michael are ummm…
“…blabbity blabbity bloop privilege blabbity…”
“Holy fucking shit, I did NOT need to know that. NOT AT ALL. How did the writers-eh, Sam? Do you a tramp stamp under your right buttock? Sam?”
Dean gets more than he bargained, or rather ignored Sam, for. The scene’s changed, so has his little, LITTLE brother, it seems, getting it on with the supposedly imprisoned angel, like their willies need to be resuscitated after drowning, given CPR like there’s no tomorrow, will be no tomorrow unless they continue. Scarred for like, and irrationally(so it would appear) angry at himself, Dean feels regretful for a moment that he never taught Sam better, never included in the disingenuously easy “the birds and the bees” talk from last year, a few hypocritical lines about damaging, fruitless relationships.
“Except there doesn’t seem to be a lack of fruit here,” Lucifer whispers conspiratorially, materializing in the room to the cacophony of a hundred putrid, zombie squirrels, still in the human body he occupied, fraying around the edges and nose and other places; there certainly wasn’t a lack of fruit: he was in the nude. And disgusting, owing to the aforementioned “fraying” factor.
Suddenly, it hits Dean how tangential, irrelevant and stupid his thoughts have been. Sam would never while there’s the vaguest possibility of Lucifer being in the room. That’s one of the topics they had discussed, dissected. This was not real. It WAS NOT. IT COULD NOT BE.
Looking at the angelic, demonic voyeur, he lets forth a slew of curses at his detailed(too much) imagination, taking a peek at the beauty spot on Michael’s back, and his-now he realizes, sighs an omniscient Sam, from alternate dimension-unhealthy obsession.
“What the fuck is this, how do I get out of this place, you shit-stealing, megalomaniac bitch?” growls Dean, never one for tact, to the still droning Lucifer.
“Oh you don’t like it?” asks Sam’s living nightmare, gesturing to Dean’s own nightmare(s).But this is just the beginning. If you’d like though, I could send you…” His voice starts drowning in the nerve-wracking cacophony, drilling into Dean’s eardrums like a screeching chalk in the hands of a math teacher who seems impervious to it.
Dean comes to in a darkened room and instantly, feels a moment of cognitive dissonance as he glances at a girl leaning on a window whose base is lined with salt. AND SHE IS FUCKING LEANING ON IT. He starts to shout, only then realizing that he has no mouth, yet he must scream.
Incongruous, frustrated, resigned, Dean feels in this unreal room of weapons, salt, ignorant kids manhandling him, not even yet knowing exactly what he is.
And so begins one of the most boring periods of Dean’s prolonged life, observing through eyes he doesn’t possess, nose he can’t see that still itches, non-existent ears that might just burst, a group of incompetent kids looking to save the world from an evil he can’t figure out, following an arc of action that has as many holes as they have if he only had his way with these prideful bunch, a gun-and a pair of hands wouldn’t hurt, either.
A dream, a dream, dream dream dream, dreams have doors, escape routes. Dean will have to find them but in the meanwhile, all he can do is witness the gross parody of a heart-breaking, forbidden romance going on, the vulnerable lovers and jealous brother, stupid demons and movie scenes, everything so faded, distanced, contrived that he realizes it can’t be a dream.
If it’s not a dream, then there isn’t a door…
…Only the last page of a book. Thank Chuck.
Meanwhile, on TV:
Sorry I couldn’t provide a more comprehensive review. No offense to anyone, much less fanfiction writers and Sam Winchester. Thank you, Little, Brown Books for Young Readers!