I find myself near expiring trying to bring Light into such Darkness. Cassie Ailey May 5, 1855 CHAPTER 35 The bombing of the Feast was not the work of international terrorists, no matter what the FBI might feed to the news crews. The perpetrators were Nocti through and through. There was not a doubt in my mind, nor Tens’s. Outside the cocoon of the bathroom the world felt a hell of a lot less cozy and safe. “Did you see the burn scars on her forearms?” I couldn’t get the image of Juliet’s stricken expression and the glimpses of her wounds from my mind. “Cigarette butts,” Tens confirmed. “What?” “Those are caused by cigarettes burned into the skin.” “How do you know that?” Tens gave me his I-don’t-want-to-talk-about-this shrug. I let it drop, for the moment. Both of us were ravenous, so he cooked up a batch of “bachelor eggs,” saying his grandfather’s recipe was merely an excuse to use everything in the fridge. Onions, garlic, peppers, chopped-up bacon and breakfast sausage, all sautéed.
