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Did she? He approached her cautiously and that made
her laugh, a giddy high-pitched noise that startled them
both. Perching on the bed s edge, he held out the mirror.
She didn t trust herself enough to take it from him. She
stared at the watery reflection. A heart-shaped face
complete with lush pale pink lips and defined cheekbones
stared back. She raised an eyebrow. The reflection did the
same. She touched the curling locks of blonde hair, twisting
a strand around her finger.
This can t be real. How long have I been out? She
pinched the bridge of her nose. Definitely real. Definitely
hers. Steeling herself, she opened her mouth. He started to
withdraw the mirror. She wrapped her fingers over his,
trapping him in place. Wait.
The teeth were new. She tried a smile with her mouth
closed and succeeded in looking benign.
He turned the mirror s face away. You should eat
something.
That burst her merry little bubble. She searched for
another topic, anything that might deflect the worries and
fears surrounding her new existence. Jean, who cursed you?
How did you end up in my backyard? How did Bremmer and
Willie know about you?
Setting the mirror on a side table, Jean returned with a
drink. Clever man. He d given her a plastic tumbler, saving
himself from cleaning up shards of glass should she break it
while hiding its contents behind the cheerful yellow exterior.
It s not a dark chocolate whipped espresso with sprinkles.
His lips quirked, a flash of white pointy teeth he d kept
carefully tucked away before.
Should she ask who or what it d belonged to? A new
scent swirled on the air, arousing a part of her mind that d
long lain dormant. She instinctively growled. Eyes wide, she
slapped a hand over her mouth.
Ma belle, do not be embarrassed on my account.
She took the cup from his hands. The yellow plastic
trembled, a side-to-side bumblebee swagger. This was her
life now. Without Jean, Bremmer would have killed her.
Come to think of it the bastard did kill her. Ooh, that made
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her want to take a tire iron to him, but the after images of
the body only turned her on.
Closing her eyes, she brought the cup to her lips. Don t
think about what it tastes like. It s not a wine-tasting
seminar. The liquid was warm and settled the angry slosh of
her stomach juices. She drank the entire cup, envisioning
chocolate cake, a scoop of vanilla ice cream, a piece of
bloody rare steak. Can that thought. Mashed potatoes. Brats.
John Bremmer laid out on the grill. Her stomach turned and
she nearly vomited the contents.
Jean s hand covered her mouth. Swallow.
She opened her eyes, met his anxious look, and
deliberately swallowed.
Good girl. Nodding, he withdrew the hand from her
mouth and took the empty cup. As to my curse. That is a
long story. Let us say I stumbled into the town unaware of
its pagan origins and inadvertently indulged in virgin and ah,
forbidden fruit, reserved for a special ceremony. The local
witch queen cursed me to remain under Persephone s care
until a child from the Queen s own line broke my bonds. He
patted her hand. You see, she could have just staked me
and poof. His hands made an exploding gesture. I would
have been no more. But she wanted me to lie awake and
suffer.
You were conscious the whole time? Pity warred with
disbelief.
Minimally. After the first hundred years or so, I learned
it was better to remain trapped in my dreams than pine in
the dark. His words were casual but the shadows flitting
through his eyes haunted her. Obviously, there were worst
things than dying. She shuddered.
He mistook the gesture and wrapped the bed s
comforter around her. The fabric smelled like it needed a
good airing. She almost preferred being nude than subjecting
herself to the odor. His hands dropped. She wished he d
keep them on her. Funny, a couple days ago, she d have
pepper-sprayed him for less.
He continued on. Persephone s the Goddess of the
Underworld. Daughter of Demeter, Earth s mother. She has a
rather split personality, if you ask me. Cleaning up after her
despotic mother while slapping thighs with a brooding dark
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dweller who builds his ranks with his mother-in-law s
offal.
Great, so they were dealing with a psychotic god. She
could relate. Her head and her heart had tossed a single
coin, but chosen dissimilar paths. I ll pursue the vengeance
part, her brain told her heart, or what remained of it. You
figure out whether you want to fuck or flee. The thing was,
her heart had never been a big part of the decision-making
process. Gretchen pictured it running around in circles,
wringing its little arteries and crying, The sky is falling. The
sky is falling.
He d stopped talking and was looking at her. I m sorry.
I kind of drifted off, she said.
You are not yet fully restored. Your injuries slow the
healing process. He started to reach for her and hesitated,
hand still outstretched. May I kiss you?
You never asked before.
You didn t pose a threat.
She grinned, fangs pricking her lower lip. Opportunistic
bastard.
I value my throat. He cupped her cheek and scooted
closer. There is so much to show you, but first we must be
away. Your uncle s bolt hole will not conceal us for much
longer. The wolves grew bold enough to circle the house
early this morning.
They know we re here.
His knuckles scraped along her neck, distracting her
from her fear. Yes.
If Bremmer and Willie are dead, why are the wolves
still bothering us?
It s the entire town, Gretchen, he said gently, lowering
his gaze to a safe point between her chin and breasts.
Fingers dipped beneath the comforter and played along her
collarbone.
She shook her head. No, it can t be. We went to Saint
Selene s every week, everyone did. There s the little
Lutheran church two blocks away and the synagogue
His hand closed over her shoulder and gave her a little
shake. I do not know about the others. But Selene s another
name for the moon goddess.
My parents didn t dance naked in the woods, she
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retorted, truly angry now. In fact, in her mind, they d never
gotten naked, not once. Nor could she picture Reverend
Byers or Mrs. Tomalie doing so. Jessica O Reily, Sara s
mother, well maybe&
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