Worrying that whatever she did was not going to be enough. Hoping that she’d be able to get that sunmoss soon. Hoping that Kasir would advance her another twist of the powder. Rainbird tipped the last of his medicine into him and then stared at the empty cup, worrying. And that was enough.īoth of them were restless, Petrus coughing fitfully. Petrus still loved her, in spite of what she’d done. Words, the soul-scouring, heart-baring kind, didn’t come easily to either of them. The damned dracine had stood there, saying nothing, just watching out of its deep-set black eyes.Ĭould she really trust it to keep her identity to itself?īack in their egg, Petrus had squeezed her shoulder with his thin, long-fingered hand before going to the wire to warn the other inspectors about Miss Levine. The last thing she wanted was for him to look at her and see a murderer. He’d gone even grayer, a tic spasming at the side of his mouth, while Rainbird stood there, wishing she could sink into the floor. He’d got an eyeful of his own daughter’s face on a wanted poster. Rainbird had tried to hustle Petrus past the bulletin board, but as bad luck would have it, he’d stopped right there for a brief rest. Miss Levine had promised him another opportunity, though. Only Turnworth’s intervention had saved him from an extended interview with the Morality League woman. Petrus had been exhausted and coughing by the time Rainbird got him home.
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |