“John and his quaint little family were among those that stayed steadfast and alert. Preen’s earth sisters gawked in her direction. They alone definitively knew that it was she who had created the feathered cyclone—not Eleanora. Outwardly, Preen wore a mask of indifference. The battle, now raging, lie within. She had cracked the door for the darkness. The very thing she had been warned of since her days of bonnets and dolls had gained a foothold in her soul. Like a rampaging demon it roared ...through her, slamming against her remaining resistance in its fight to devour what was left of her righteousness. Blinking back a hot rush of tears, Preen focused on Nathaniel. For her boy, she had to fight. For him she would not give in to the pulsating lure. Blood streaking his forehead and dotting his cheeks, the constable stumbled back up the steps. His face was purple with rage. “Gone yet not dead, meaning her girls are not free of her affliction!MoreLessRead More Read Less
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