Firebug
by
Lish McBride
My rating: 4 of 5 stars
4,5 flaming stars
The Coterie, the magical mafia, don't give a second chance. Enter the assasins. Ava is owned for life by the Coterie since she was 13 y.o., she is a firebug and has no scape for that kind of life, her dangerous talent is used for kill other magicals by orders of Venus (the vampire boss who kills Ava's mom). Her best-friends: Ezra a werefox, and Lock a half-dryad are her team (tithes indebted until their 25 b-day)
Most girls my age worry about prom dresses and SATs. I have to weigh the ethical nature of being an assassin against the value of human life and basic freedoms. Makes detention seem like cake.
Among teen-tropes: orphan, angst ('want to be normal go to school and have boyfriends!'), chores, a second normal job, and the 'All Is My Fault'. We have funny dialogues, and lovable characters as Ezra, the fox, the thief, the vain, a good friend. And the caring Lock, who use vegetal life as weapons .
“You be a gentleman,” I said, “and I promise I won’t turn you into cinders.”
“Of course,” Lock said with a huff. “I’m not Ezra.”
“I am a perfect gentleman,” Ezra said. “It’s not my fault that no one can resist me.” He lifted up his shirt. “I mean, have you seen these abs? Who can blame them?”
“And that’s why you’re getting the cot,” I said, rolling my eyes. “Because there’s no way we’ll be able to sleep if we’re constantly touching your abs.”
“Of course,” Lock said with a huff. “I’m not Ezra.”
“I am a perfect gentleman,” Ezra said. “It’s not my fault that no one can resist me.” He lifted up his shirt. “I mean, have you seen these abs? Who can blame them?”
“And that’s why you’re getting the cot,” I said, rolling my eyes. “Because there’s no way we’ll be able to sleep if we’re constantly touching your abs.”
An assasin trying to guilt her guardian to get permission.
Cade looked at me over the rims of his glasses. “If you went to high school, you’d be the one pantomiming vomit at the girls who wallpapered their lockers with pictures of their boyfriends. You’d tell them you didn’t like the idea of giving over your personhood and identity to the worship of some high school mouth-breather. Then you’d probably ditch class to go get coffee with a college boy in a leather jacket who writes bad poetry and loves Hemingway. If you were going for a cliché, that’s what you would go for.”
Gah, Cade knew me so well. It wasn’t fair.
Gah, Cade knew me so well. It wasn’t fair.
She lost something for too much weeping and some lack of thinking of the character. But I'm waiting the next book.
(Reto Popsugar
26. Un libro y su precuela.)
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