“Ten years. It wasn’t enough time, but I would live every blessed second of it. “We’re going to San Fransisco.” She smiled up at me. “We’ll get a house in North Beach.” “Right away,” I said. “I’ve got the down payment and then some.”
She signed and pulled me close. “We’re going to be so happy.”
We would be. I’d dust the knickknacks, burn the sausage, wake up next to her every morning. I’d be grateful, even though I knew the end.”
She signed and pulled me close. “We’re going to be so happy.”
We would be. I’d dust the knickknacks, burn the sausage, wake up next to her every morning. I’d be grateful, even though I knew the end.”
C.L. Polk’s lovely Even Though I Knew the End is a beautiful way to spend the afternoon. To describe Even Though I Knew the End you take one part supernatural thriller, one part hard-boiled same-spade detective story, and one part queer romance dash in a bit of the late 1930s-1940s in Chicago, and you have it.
“I never told her how she had saved me. I never told her how she became the dearest friend I’d ever had. I told her I loved her, but never enough. My Edith of the sparrows. My heart. My world.”
The main protagonist is an “exiled augur, Helen, who sold her soul to save her brother’s life and is offered one last job before serving an eternity in hell.” Because of her choice, she lost everything. Now, she makes ends meet by working various investigative jobs that require her unique skill set. She has found true love in Edith, who softens Helen’s rough edges. They fit together like a matched pair. It is charming and authentic, and I loved every moment of it.
The great thing about this story is that Polk has left it open for more books. This book is not enough for one helping; Polk needs to bring them out again and again.
