“She poked the bloodied and shredded clothes with a bare toe. No hope of ever getting them clean enough to warrant mending. The mess of ruined fabric landed in the garbage with a wet sound. She washed her hands again. Hopefully, she smelled better to a gargoyle’s delicate nose.During her bath, she’d washed away the remainder of her fear. How could she fear anyone who looked as ridiculous as he had, jammed into the shower with wings and tail jutting out, horns scraping the ceiling? Besides, she w...as still alive. If he’d wanted her dead, he’d had plenty of opportunity. Instead he’d told her she reeked and fled the room as fast as he could.“Well fine,” she mumbled to herself. “No more procrastinating.”As she exited the bathroom, the sword caught her eye. It sat propped where she’d left it next to the door. Since she wasn’t going to kill him with it, the sword was pointless. Besides, the mere thought of doing him harm sickened her. She needed answers. Something to explain away the strange link of kinship she felt with the gargoyle, and she wasn’t going to find them here.The bedroom door creaked loudly enough to shatter glass.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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