The Bad Ones by Stylo Fantome is one of those books that stay with you for ever. This is the kind of story you shove at your book buddy’s hand and tell them that they need to be on the same level of peaceful evilness with you. Con is and Dulcie are the best combo for pleasurable disasters. Why you ask, well let me tell you…
From the beginning this story sucks you in and you can’t escape it, then when you read…
“Why did you set someone’s car on fire?” She thought maybe it would rattle him –her thinking he’d actually done it. But of course it didn’t. He chuckled, and she was treated to a patented Masters grin. It started at one corner of his mouth and eventually moved to the opposite corner, slowly revealing perfect white teeth and a razor sharp smile. He leaned close to her, and as his lips pressed against her ear, she could’ve sworn the temperature dropped.
“Because I thought it would be fun.”
You are totally screwed because now you are glad you were the one chosen to go on this beautiful tragic adventure.
This part was my favorite part of the story because we see the darkness and passion that Con has for Dulcie …
Dulcie stumbled over so she was right behind him. His growling grew to an open mouthed yell. His hands were coated in blood and he struggled to keep his grip on the hobo’s hair.
Well now, let’s just rip this ol’ black curtain away and see what’s been hiding behind it!
“He effing touched you,” Con was gasping for air as he finally stepped back from the damage. “No one is allowed to touch you. I can’t believe he effing touched you.”
Dulcie really surprised me, I knew the girl was dark inside but this part gave me that tingly feeling in the back of my neck. The one you get when you know someone has let the dark part of them out to play.
With a shout, Dulcie swung the post in a wide arc. It landed smack across the man’s face, driving his head harder into the rail underneath him. She could hear bone break, hear teeth crack, and it was like music to her. She swung the post again, and the man’s face was unrecognizable as human.
Another swing, and an arterial spray of blood shot through the moonlight. Finally, one last swing, one last primal scream, and there was a crunch. Something hard crumbling against something soft. Mr. Hobo would never be touching anything, ever again.
Style Fantôme has blown me away with this book. I couldn’t put it down and I actually did a re-read as soon as I finished it. That closing line gave me the worst BOOK HANGOVER ever! This is a must read!