#while your twin/creator/mother/child robs him…

[reputayswift]

I can’t read romances after TDT…I pick up a contemporary romance and it’s like no…you’re being too blatant…you have to filter your feelings through art history figures…you will never be Declan making Jordan say his name in a packed museum…

[tabloidtoc]

People, July 20

You can buy a copy of this issue for your very own at my eBay store: https://www.ebay.com/str/bradentonbooks

Cover: Nick Cordero -- a life cut short by COVID-19 

Page 1: Chatter -- Tom Hanks joking about writing and producing and starring in the new film Greyhound, Shawn Johnson on battling an eating disorder after the 2008 Beijing Games, Kevin Hart on how his wife Eniko feels at 6 months pregnant, Kristen Bell on reactions to news that her 5-year-old daughter wears diapers, Gavin Rossdale on his divorce from Gwen Stefani being his most embarrassing moment, Ricky Martin on his quarantine experience 

Page 2: 5 Things We’re Talking About This Week -- Kanye West says he’s running for president, Beavis and Butt-Head make a comeback, Michelle Pfeiffer reveals a relatable makeup mishap, Floor is Lava heats up on Netflix, Baby Yoda takes over breakfast 

Page 5: Contents 

Page 6: StarTracks -- Stars in the Sun -- Brooke Shields rocking a star-spangled bikini during a dip in her pool in the Hamptons 

Page 7: Pregnant Katy Perry and fiance Orlando Bloom took a beach stroll with their dog in Santa Barbara, Luke Evans cooled off during a boat ride in Ibiza, John Legend twinning in matching swimsuits with son Miles, Sailor Brinkley-Cook celebrated her 22nd birthday with mom Christie Brinkley and sister Alexa Ray Joel, Gabrielle Union 

Page 8: Jason Derulo performed without an audience due to the pandemic for the Wawa Welcome America virtual festival, Emily Ratajkowski wore a mask while out for a walk with her beloved dog Colombo, Serena Williams and daughter Olympia hit the tennis court in matching gear, Carson Kressley cohosted the livestreamed celebration of the 50th annual N.Y.C. Pride March

Page 9: Royals Back in Action -- Prince William and Princess Kate Middleton celebrated the 72nd anniversary of the National Health Service, Prince Charles visited Cotswold Farm Park, Camilla Duchess of Cornwall stepped out at the Swindon Fire Station to thank firefighters and hospital staff and paramedics 

Page 10: Five months after losing husband Kobe Bryant and daughter Gianna Vanessa Bryant celebrated Independence Day with her daughters Natalia and Bianka and Capri, Chris Pine flashed a peace sign during a grocery store run, Jessica Simpson celebrated son Ace’s seventh birthday 

Page 11: British racing driver Lewis Hamilton took a knee against racism before the Formula One Grand Prix of Austria, Luke Wilson playing golf in Bel Air, Ben Affleck and Ana de Armas shared a laugh during a morning stroll, Maren Morris and son Hayes went motor-floating 

Page 15: Scoop -- Meghan Markle felt unprotected by the palace 

Page 16: Prince Harry and Meghan Markle are free to speak their minds, Jada Pinkett Smith speaks out after affair allegations with August Alsina 

Page 18: Heart Monitor -- Chris Evans and Lily James dating?, Kacey Musgraves and Ruston Kelly separated, Camila Mendes and Grayson Vaughn heating up, Julia Roberts and Danny Moder happy anniversary 

Page 21: Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt amicably co-parenting, D.L. Hughley tackles COVID-19 and racism 

Page 23: Sean Astin -- my mother’s Patty Duke’s legacy on mental health 

Page 24: Mandy Moore on family and love and making music 

Page 27: Passages, Ghislaine Maxwell charged 

Page 29: Stories to Make You Smile -- thanks to a colorful custom soundboard a dog speaks and she has a lot to say, this boy wants to help save the Earth one park at a time 

Page 31: People Picks -- Greyhound 

Page 32: The Old Guard, Brett Eldredge -- Sunday Drive 

Page 33: P-Valley, Crikey! It’s the Irwins: Life in Lockdown, One to Watch -- Little Voice’s Brittany O’Grady 

Page 34: Brave New World

Page 35: Palm Springs, Margo Price -- That’s How Rumors Get Started, Q&A -- Leslie Odom Jr. of Hamilton

Page 37: Books, Star Picks: What We’re Reading -- Tracee Ellis Ross is reading Me Talk Pretty One Day, Chris Hemsworth is reading The Boy, the mole, the Fox and the Horse, Elle Fanning is reading The Nightingale 

Page 38: Cover Story -- Broadway Star Nick Cordero 1978-2020 -- a brave battle and a family’s heartbreak -- after three months in the hospital fighting COVID-19 the actor and new dad lost his life to the virus; how his story and his wife’s unending love and devotion inspired people around the world 

Page 45: Raven-Symone: Introducing the Real Me -- after decades in the spotlight the former child star is independent in love and finally in control 

Page 48: A Fort Hood Soldier Murdered -- what happened to Vanessa Guillen? -- months after she mysteriously disappeared the 20-year-old was found dead; inside the shocking case 

Page 50: Carl Reiner 1922-2020 -- Farewell to a Comedy Legend -- creator of The Dick Van Dyke Show, father of Rob Reiner, BFF of Mel Brooks, mentor to Steve Martin, he entered and exited laughing 

Page 52: A Demand for Answers -- a young man’s tragic death -- Elijah McClain died last summer after police tackled and restrained him as he walked home from the store. His family is still asking why 

Page 54: NASCAR’s Bubba Wallace -- Driving for Change -- the sport’s only top-ranked African-American driver takes on the fight for racial equality 

Page 58: Poo-Pourri founder Suzy Batiz -- the sweet smell of success -- the mom of three overcame abuse, bankruptcy and depression then built am empire by taking the P.U. out of poo 

Page 63: Lindsay Ell surviving sexual assault -- after years of hiding her pain the country singer opens up and finds healing by helping fellow survivors 

Page 66: A Friendship Born in the COVID-19 ICU -- her kind words helped save his life -- an unexpected bond between a patient fighting to stay alive and a hospital housekeeper made all the difference just when it mattered the most 

Page 68: Patricia Heaton -- embrace your second act -- the actress shares adventurous stories of transformation including her own in a new book 

Page 69: Mike Monteleone 

Page 71: Liz Smothers, Ta’u Pupu’a 

Page 73: Dani Klein Modisett, Yudi Bennett 

Page 77: COVID-19 Surges Again -- as new infections set records epidemiologist Dr. Michael Osterholm talks about steps we can take to slow the spread 

Page 81: Summer Beauty Issues Solved -- Ciara 

Page 87: Second Look -- Lin-Manuel Miranda and Phillipa Soo in Hamilton 

Page 88: One Last Thing -- Charlize Theron

[scarletgardensrpg]

LIVING ♦ THIRTY-FIVE ♦ HOUSE OF EDEN

KAZIMIR WOJCZIK is the Prime Minister’s current Senior Advisor, referred to by most as simply “Doctor” for his rehabilitation practices, which have raised the House of Eden a formidable army of Undead soldiers, many of whom he personally recruits and trains. As a high-ranking member of the House, Kazimir holds the rare privilege of traveling in and out of Amsterdam on recruitment missions, accompanied by House Resurrectors Julian and Neeve.

BIOGRAPHY

tw: corpses, scapels/needles, implied child abuse, implied suicide

Come here, Lady Wojczikowa said, and waited until her apprentice finally crept closer to her. She put her hand to the small of the young boy's back, perhaps so Kazimir would not move away again. Look, mój drogi, do you see? Unwillingly, Kazimir slid his gaze to the table before them, to what—who—lay upon it. Today, it was a girl, no older than Kazimir himself. Earlier, he'd heard snippets of conversation upstairs, exchanged in murmurs between Lady Wojczikowa and the girl's family. Wolves. Torn to pieces. Nothing salvageable. In the dim, sickly glow of the basement lights, Kazimir had to agree. Lady Wojczikowa, who often studied him while he studied the corpses, made a sound of disapproval. Nie bądź niegrzeczny, she snapped, and Kazimir flinched, half-ashamed and half-afraid. The dead were once just like us. And in time, we all become just like the dead. Now hand me the scapel.

- ❀ -

His keeper, the Lady Wojczikowa, was a skilled mortician and known wariatka; the sort of pale-faced, cadaverous creature one might find dancing barefoot by the Solokiya, or singing nonsensically to the dead, or robbing cradles like a mad witch of night. It was said that Kazimir, her apprentice-son, was one such case—though from which cradle he was taken, not one person in their village could say. He resembled nothing and no one, all milky white skin and almond eyes, but looked as all children of winter did in other ways: too thin, too rough, bearing the sharp, beady features of someone perpetually braced against impact. His keep—two meals a day, a bed in the attic, and one hundred złotys a week—was earned by working with his mother. Sometimes the bodies they carried in were elderly; those who had passed on in their sleep, or found their bodies succumbing at last to a lifetime of cigarettes and bone-aching cold. Other times, it was the battered bodies of wives and daughters, every bruise a violent, haunting sorrow. Worst of all was when it was children: stillborns, urchins who never stood a chance, orphans left to fend again disease and starvation in a village rife with both. Kazimir, under his mother's careful instruction, had become adept in all arts of embalment by sixteen, but could not often separate himself from the very bodies he cut and cleaned, drained and painted with cosmetics. When Lady Wojczikowa showed him how to push a needle in, Kazimir felt the bite of metal under his own skin. Carotid, axillary, brachial, he rehearsed, though he already knew anatomy like intimate clockwork. Femoral, ulnar, radial, tibial.

In youth, Kazimir had been ugly and strange—a knobby, underfed thing with a crow's scavenger gaze and the unsettingly tendency to linger in doorways like a child phantom. But in burgeoning adulthood, he grew into a strong jaw, ebony hair, deep red lips: and in possessing such a harrowing, odd strain of beauty, instilled more fear than love in those who found him desireable. Eventually, Lady Wojczikowa, who so adored the dead it bordered on lunacy, died herself: her waifish body carried down by the icy currents of the Solokiya, a pair of wooden shoes left by the riverbank. No note, no will, no body. It was as if she'd never existed at all. When Kazimir left for school, it was with the intention of never returning. And yet, at Oxford, he had stuck out like a smudge of dark in a kingdom of light: for whatever life it was that so afflicted his university classmates, in all their expensive suits and watches, their ten-year plans and generational wealth and material fantasies, it could not have possibly afflicted Kazimir. He, who shared his house with the dead, who knew exactly what it felt like to cut a human open at his navel, who could think of nothing else when it got late enough: no, he suffered a different sickness. So when the rotbeesten arrived, legions of them cutting a scarlet path westward, and the world descended into madness, Kazimir felt nothing more than a sense of quiet wash over him. A sense that, madness be damned, something made sense at last. The dead, who seemed to terrify all, felt like kin to him instead. Were they so different from the hundreds of bodies he'd bathed and cared for? Had he not brushed their hair, arranged blooms in their caskets, studied them for stretches of hours in a basement in southern Poland? Were they not, in fact, old friends come to say hello once more?

Eventually, though he would not have preferred it, they found him in Warsaw. Agostina, tight-lipped and wan, asking in broken Polish: Thalia mówi że możesz je wyleczyć? Kazimir shrugging: Thalia says a lot of bullshit. Oni mnie lubią. And Nikolaas, handing him the vial of crushed blood lilies, which gleamed like powerdered rubies in the light. Apocalypse had originated from this vial, Kazimir knew. Barberini, van Houten, even little Yamaguchi: blood was smeared on the hands of all three of them. Now, if he agreed, it would be four. Do your best, Doctor, Nikolaas said into the silence. The creature is downstairs. All the world hangs onto your efforts. We certainly do. It was a cheap attempt at flattery, Kazimir thought, but it might've also been true. The dead liked him. Maybe because he smelled a little like them, sweet and chemical and heavy; or maybe because he had always harbored a little death within himself—that dark spark, which spoke of an empyrean wilderness Lady Wojczikowa must have sowed in him. He was a ponury żniwiarz: a harbinger of death as much as a decorator of it. The creature—it—she said her name was Kisara, Agostina said suddenly, and almost sounded sorry. Kazimir pocketed the vial. Take me to Kisara, then, he said.

CONNECTIONS

SASHA – THE GIRL FROM THE MOUNTAIN.  She had come to him in a blaze of light: clear-eyed, sun-skinned, the corner of her pretty mouth pulled permanently into a smirk. Вийди з мого погляду, she'd tease, knowing he couldn't understand her, and shove him hard enough against the Carpathian rock that he'd push away from it with scraped hands. He'd never met anyone so alive. The Solokiya, before it became the place of Lady Wojczikowa's death, was first where Kazimir met her: she, who spoke a different language from him, who refused to give her name, who mocked him endlessly by laughter and touch alone. The river which divided Poland from Ukraine also divided them; so that he only ever saw her once, twice—every occasion something rare and to be treasured. He would carry the sound of her voice in his heart for years after: two children deep in the woods, making baleful faces at one another, too young to act bashful and too stupid to understand it was love. Kazimir never imagined meeting Sasha again, and sometimes, he wishes he hadn't at all. She has grown into unspeakable beauty—but every searching look she sends his way pierces him. For all her prowess and strength, he can sense the ribbon of sorrow that runs through her. Where once she tore through forests with him in ferocious joy, she now only floats, a rootless phantom. Julian may have pulled her from the ice and given her a new life, but Kazimir knows just how much was left behind: a language, a name, a warmth. 

AGOSTINA, NIKOLAAS, & THALIA – FOUR HORSEMEN. The problem with power is, always, that it corrupts. And here were three figures drenched in it, endless and obscene: a politician seated at the apex of her pyramid, a manic doctor gone to raise new hell, and an heiress to crime whose beguiling face concealed something far uglier deep down. Kazimir understands why he has earned a place among these creators and destroyers of history: a gift for fishing the needle of humanity out from the frozen waters of every soul they've brought before him. And yet, he cannot share in any other piece of their ambitions and obsessions—for they play war games and chase divinity, spilling whoever's blood they need to in the red streets of Amsterdam. Kazimir does not. Nonetheless, he will raise them their army, even as he does not crave the way they do. Call it misplaced loyalty, call it sadistic spectating, call his willingness to indulge in their nightmares a bad habit picked up from a lifetime spent listening to the instruction of a madwoman—even Kazimir himself doesn't know what to diagnose his passivity. All the same, he knows the four of them will remain tied to one another no matter their paths, as all gods of the same pantheon are forced to exist within the same mythology. 

JULIAN & NEEVE – HEAVEN AND HELL. To attain salvation, one would need to go through either he or them. This is law. More often than not, the Undead are treated by him, clinically delivered closer and closer to consciousness with every dose of PM-GRNT 197 injected into their bloodstream—but those who display, ah, potential may be offered a second path. Hellish Buchanan and ethereal Bishop: they are the twin overseers of life and death who accompany Kazimir wherever Agostina sends him, burdened with the rarest and most terrible gift of all. Resurrection. The Hague, the ruins of Eastern Europe and Central Asia, islands and mountains, even the occasional gala event Kazimir finds himself forced to attend, all protestations ignored: Julian and Neeve have acted as his second and third shadow through it all, steadfast as Death itself. He would find the constant company annoying, if they weren't so entertaining to observe—one with a heart steeped in ten feet of ice, the other chipping away at it with excrutiating precision. Maybe he's a little fond of them. He tries his best not to show it. 

OPEN ♦ FC: QI JUNKAI