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Edge of Thorns 2 - Pt 18Part 18
I don't think I'll get much done in the way of writing tonight, and I should apologize for the way I left. Guess it is a good thing Alton did my work for me, even if I still don't like it...
The writer ran his fingers through his drenched hair, slicking it back. "Sterling & Son. I need to apologize to Alton."
Micah raised an eyebrow. He offered Nathan his hand and helped him to his feet, folding his wings back as he started down the sidewalk towards his car (which Nathan could have sworn wasn't there before). Thunder rumbled in the distance, and the writer quickly followed after him, watching silently as the angel's wings faded away and he entered the vehicle. Another, louder thunder roll prompted him to jog faster around to the passenger's side, not hesitating to let himself in. Before Micah could ask about his last comment, Nathan turned to him to elaborate.
"I got upset with him."
The angel rolled his eyes and started the car, pulling away from the curb.
Edge of Thorns 2 - Pt 16Part 16
I'm probably going to regret this later, but she is right...
Nathan still frowned and rubbed his neck. "I guess so," he admitted. "I probably could use the back up, but..."
"Great," Enya said with a smirk and a satisfied nod. "Because if you had said no, I was going to chew you out and help anyway. Better that you just agree with me."
Despite his apprehensiveness, Nathan still laughed at that. "If it means avoiding an argument, then yeah, probably."
"Did I miss anything exciting?" Alton returned to his guests, standing beside the table with his hands folded in front of him. While they both shook their heads, Enya eased the cat off her lap and stood up from the table, bouncing beside him and wrapping her arms around his shoulders.
"Didn't miss a thing, Al, though I was wondering what we're going to do now. It's still raining and I sure as hell don't feel like going home yet."
"What time is it anyway?" Nathan glanced down at his watch. It was almost eight o'c
ReflectionsVal's pursuit led him to the foul beast's domain. The hollowed-out cavern reeked of blood and rancid meat. The dim light he had seen as he charged through the tunnel after the monster could now be identified: torches. Rows of mysteriously lit torches lined the walls of the huge cave. At its center was a substantially large labyrinth of mirrors.
He spotted the beast entering.
He spun his silver broadsword in his hand and hurried in behind it.
His garb was a simple blue and white crusader's leather with thick armored pads and reinforcing steel studs. Lightweight and flexible, but quite effective defense against blunt blows and – in a pinch – the slashing claws of the unholy spawn of the earth. All monster-hunters wore a similar variety in Val's experience. It would serve him well in these close quarters of the mirrored maze.
Right, left, forward, left, right he turned, always catching a glimpse of the beast's tail as he wove his way through the corridors. Every so often he sp
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