I just wanted a breath of air. A cup of lies. I don’t. Detention would mean coming home late, which spelled distraction and trouble on the night of a kill. This—’ waving an imperious hand in a sweeping arc about the library ‘—is my house. If I had never met anything of you at all but a scrap of your skin binding a book, Ann Veronica, I know I would have kept that somewhere near to me.
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