She cursed the treachery of memory, its frailty and spottiness. Wow. ‘Why don’t you?’ Melusine frowned at him, grasping the dagger more firmly. Her heart in her mouth, hoping against hope, Melusine made her way back to where she had left the boy. Why? Because Howard Spurlock the author dared not risk the liberty of Howard Spurlock the malefactor; because there were still some dregs in this cup of irony.
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