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Edge of Thorns 2 - Pt 13Part 13
You know, I've already made Gabriel both model (which he doesn't seem too keen on) and take on a human identity; the least I can do is suffer through the shoot with him.
Nathan considered the offer for a moment, but after another glance at Gabriel -- who seemed to be doing his best not to look uncomfortable with Gloria hanging on his arm while Marq went over the details of the shoot with them -- the writer sighed and shook his head. "I'm afraid I owe him for the torture I'm putting him through," he said with a nod towards the angel. "I didn't think he'd be so adverse to this, and now I feel bad."
Wren wrinkled his nose and shook his head. "I'd gladly fill his shoes, but they probably wouldn't let me. I'm a minor."
"Yeah, that reminds me..." Nathan turned to him, eyebrow raised. "It's a weekday. Shouldn't you be in school?" He wasn't going to comment on the cigarette smoking, but he did wonder what he was doing working on a Wednesday afternoon. The teen just
Edge of Thorns 2 - Pt 12Part 12
I'm pretty sure telling the truth (when he can do that already) is only going to piss Gabriel off more. So, how the hell am I going to explain his inexplicable knowledge of the model's death...?
"He's psychic," Nathan told Marq, hoping his smile looked genuine and not desperate. The photographer's horrified expression shifted, becoming confused, so he continued. "You know, psychic? He sees dead people...?"
"Oh." Clearly, Marq wasn't buying it, but he still turned to Gabriel for confirmation. The angel was rubbing his temples, but he nodded.
"Your reaction is precisely why I don't usually bring it up," he said, giving him a half shrug. "Nathan knows, which is why I wanted to talk to him before I took over for Fabrizio in the shoot. Needless to say, that's why I'm uncomfortable with it."
Nathan raised an eyebrow, his jaw dropping. Did Gabriel just...? But his thoughts were interrupted as Marq shook his head and waved his hands, an oddly relieved chuckle escaping him
A Bloody, Stupid Miracle The day we’d cured the human condition was the day I put a bullet through my head and didn’t die. It was also the day I realized how scared I actually was of death, and after hours of muscle ache from holding that gauze against my open skull, after the wound closed and everything went back to normal, I had myself a good old-fashioned brainstorm. How ironic.
But when summer came, everything had fallen to shit. The air scorched my skin and parched my tongue every time I took a breath. The sun glared down on a rapidly-collapsing world, full of the undying bastard children of cruelty and misfortune. What was one to do when their cells regenerated faster than they decomposed?
My feet hit the pavement, now littered with jagged bits of glass to snap at my toes, thoroughly baked by the blazing ball of bitter disdain high overhead. Today was worse than yesterday. Though I’d often wondered the purpose of it anymore, I
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