The inside was just as mellow and well-appointed, with dark, rose-patterned woodwork smelling of oil soap, plus dark-hued, layered window draperies that reminded Dawn of a dress that a fancy woman might’ve worn at a ball.“The house is all a bit much for me now,” the seventy-some-year-old Mrs. O’C...
The blast of a Def-Leppard-guitar-lick ringtone set her heart to thudding. She fumbled for her cell, almost tumbling off the sheet-covered couch where she slept. “Mmmm?” “Get up,” Breisi said without preamble. “The Voice assigned our Friends to trail a few people, and one of them is Milton Crocke...
he asked. “That is not a question that matters.” What mattered was that Costin was a creature being offered back his soul, and there was something like a spirit in the room doing the deed. “How long would I have, old man?” &n...