Anita drives up to pick up Lawrence and –
You know what? Nope. I am not sporking this chapter. It relies on such a bending of the laws of the universe that it is entirely impossible. Lawrence had a wooden stake driven through his kidneys, and yet, the wound got a few stitches and he was sent on his merry way.
Nope. That’s crap. The man should be in hospital. I am not indulging the bullshit that a man who got a block of wood through a vital organ is running around, looking at crime scenes, and is able to be conscious without any pain relief.
Anita is walking around saying ‘oh, I can’t talk this man out of walking around with a serious injury’ because she is a shitty human being. Larry makes a face and goes on about how she’s so right about everything, but I am amazed he hasn’t died of internal bleeding by now.
This is just a repeat of when Anita slit her wrists and didn’t seek medical attention for the whole of the book. Injuries matter! If they’re not dealt with, they jolt the reader so completely out to the world they can’t believe in it. And that is death for fiction.
The only thing that really happens is this chapter is that Anita whines about how dreadful it is to be a necromancer and how much she can’t be bothered to do anything. Lawrence actually gives her examples of other necromancers, but Anita kind of reacts like this:
Suitably chastised, Lawrence appeases Anita by saying how he learns much more with her than he ever did at university.
I hate this book.