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Edge of Thorns 3 - Pt 18Part 18
She's probably not in the living room, but we should split up to search the other places...
The writer scanned the room quickly. "She couldn't have gotten too far, but let's start on the outside and work our way in. We know she's not in the kitchen, and it doesn't look like she's here." He turned to the other two. "Enya, check downstairs and make sure she didn't head outside."
"On it," she agreed, hurrying through the open door and down the steps.
Nathan looked at the angel. "Micah, if you could take the apartment..."
"I will start start in the bedroom," he said with a slight bow of his head, also noticing it was the only other door open. Nathan nodded then moved towards the door leading up and outside.
"And I'll check the roof," he said to himself.
It had been a while since he'd taken the stairs up to Alton's rooftop garden; the last time he'd been there he'd climbed the fire escape, and a very angry teenager had tried to murder him. He wondered how Wren was doin
Edge of Thorns 3 - Pt 17Part 17
Something to pass the time is better than nothing.
"I'm too paranoid to sleep now," Nathan said, only half joking. "Is there anything we can make that doesn't involve the oven? I think some sweets may ease everyone's nerves." He looked at Lidia in his arms, who had stopped crying but was still curled closely to him.
Enya smiled and lifted one shoulder, starting back into the kitchen. "We can check. I think I spotted some no-bake boxes in there when I was hunting for stuffing ingredients. Let's go take a look."
The writer nodded and carefully stood, Lidia adjusting her hold while he carried her. Once in the kitchen, he set the child on the chair she'd been sitting in before, then turned to look at the open pantry while Enya skimmed through it.
"Hmm," she mumbled, grabbing the first box she spotted. "How does peanut butter bars sound? Looks like he's got two boxes here; we could make a double batch."
Nathan moved behind her and nodded. "Sounds like a plan to me."
Edge of Thorns 3 - Pt 15Part 15
She's young; showing her will probably be the easiest way to explain, without getting into too many complicated details.
Nathan drew a deep breath, held it, then released it slowly. "I think," he said carefully. "I think it would be easier to show her." He cast a glance at Alton. "Trying to explain things would get complicated, but she should at least know there are... angels about?"
Putting his glasses on again and staring at him curiously, a small smile spread across the bookseller's lips. "I suppose, for a child so young, simple is probably best." He looked on into the kitchen. "Though it's a shame that I must be her introduction, and not one of the other, more angelic two."
"Don't say that." Nathan could hear the sadness in his tone. "There are times where you are far more angel than devil yourself."
"Of course," Alton agreed bitterly, giving him a smirk. "I could hardly call myself the father of lies if I wasn't also the master of all forms of deception. Seem
Edge of Thorns 3 - Pt 14Part 14
I know: I'll tell him about Wren. There is plenty to worry about his safety.
The writer sighed. He really couldn't give him more information without telling too much. "I'm worried about Wren," he finally admitted. "It's bad enough I've got to deal with these sisters, and (like you mentioned) I've been in the hospital plenty for it. But I didn't lose and arm, and I'm not completely incapacitated. He's just a kid, Scott; what if they try to finish him off?"
The reporter frowned and nodded slowly, as if he was carefully considering this information. "Yeah, I can see why that'd worry you." He began to rise from his seat. "Well, I've done my prying. I think I'll spend the rest of my evening going for a ride while the weather's still good for it. Enjoy the leftovers." Scott made his way over to the door, but stopped, looking back. "You doing anything for Thanksgiving? Enya's made her own plans to spend it with Alton and his group, and being that it's right around the co
EasterRemember what you love,
you with sand in your teeth
and the feral burn of hunger
in your eyes.
God sends his regrets.
He made you grasping and slow,
in a late hour
when the wine washed low.
Remember what you love.
Fall to your knees in the toss
and the swell, quell
the appetite of the cold black sea.
Beg blessings for your home
and the salt-sick trees.
Reach what lies near:
the fat-faced child, the sweet-soft lamb;
tether the tantrum, trickle the blood.
Offer psalms to what is holy,
whisper the name of what you love
as it bobs in the bleak mad sea.
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