Dreamfever, After the walls come tumbling down…
Our abbey’s been compromised, but we won’t give an inch. No way Shades are taking our home and turning it into a Dark Zone. One by one we’ll hunt ‘em down and force ‘em out.
Yesterday, there was one inside Sorcha’s boot. Clare saw it happen. Said Sorcha just kind of vanished down into her shoe, clothes collapsed around it. When we dumped the boot upside down on the front steps in the sunshine, a papery husk, jewelry, and two fillings spilled out, followed by a Shade that shattered into a zillion pieces. None of us is putting on our shoes now without shaking the crap out of ‘em and shining flashlights deep. I been wearing sandals a lot, even though it’s cold. What a way to go: death-by-shoe-Shade. I grin. I have a black sense of humor. You try living my life, see what color yours turns.
If I know Jericho Barrons, he was walking around feeling like his dick was the most huge, magnificent, perfect, important creation under the sun.
Which — I winced — I vaguely recalled telling him a time or two.
Well… maybe several times.
“How charming,” V’lane cut us off. His voice arrived before he did. “The very portrait of human domestic bliss. She’s on the floor, you’re towering over her. Did he strike you, MacKayla? Say the word and I’ll kill him.” …
“As if you could,” said Barrons.
“Perhaps not. But I do enjoy thinking about it.”
“Bring it on, Tinker Bell.”
V’lane and Barrons
January 17th, 2011 at 8:00 am