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Quote by Suzanne Stroh

“It was just a magnificent, India-ink night of moonlit clouds below and glimpses of the shimmering sea. What century are you in? he longed to ask her.”

Quote by Suzanne Stroh

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Tabou: Jocelyn

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Suzanne Stroh

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“Take it easy, friend," siad Peter, regaining his balance, quickly understanding the condition Henry was in. "Friend? You left us. In the caves." Henry's muscles tensed. Peter stepped back cautiously. Henry didn't look like himself. "Seems someone can't hold his drink," Peter said. He didn't go further, sensing then that Valerie might be thinking of her father. "And now," Henry continued on his own track, stepping closer to meet him, the smell of alcohol on his breath, "my father, too is dead." Valerie moved to Henry. "Please, don't do this," she said, stepping in. "It's not worth it." Henry pushed past her, not realizing his own weight. The force knocked her back. Peter grabbed Henry's arm and twisted it. Overreacting, Henry reared back his fist and landed a punch in the hollow of Peter's eye. The crowd laughed as Peter fell hard to the ground. Henry scrambled on top him, held him by the collar, forced Peter to face him as he'd never done. He looked into the eyes of the man he wanted to blame for his parents' deaths, because it was a shelter from the terrible thought that everything could be lost to a simple slip of fate. "You filth," he spat out. This really got the villagers going. But Peter didn't laugh. He pulled a knife from his boot and leapt up, thrusting it viciously in Henry's face. "Keep your hands off her or I'll cut them off!”

“Peter," she began. He looked up at her, and she could see the pain in his eyes. "I love you," she said freely. With Peter, she was laid bare; he extracted her from herself. Peter didn't know what to say. HIs eyes glimmered, bright and burning. He only let her see them a moment before he turned away. He took a ragged breath. "What were you doing with Rose anyway" she demanded, asking a lot of him. Peter darkened again. He turned his back to her, took a step farther into the alley, and said in a dead voice, "I don't have to like her to get what I want." "I don't believe you," Valerie said, reaching for his face, again. Peter pulled away from her. "You're lying.”

“Valerie, I love you so much. I wanted you to have a normal childhood—so I lived a double life. Hiding in plain sight. Living modestly.” He began to pace the room, the words tumbling out of him. “I tried to keep it up, but I’ve been so disrespected. Even by my own wife. I couldn’t do it anymore. I’ve settled for far less than I deserved, and I just couldn’t do it anymore. I decided it was time to leave for the city....For richer hunting grounds.” Cesaire was snarling now, a scary, powerful force. Valerie felt herself being drawn to it.... She took a deep, steadying breath. It was not just fear that she felt. What she felt was so much more complex than that, something she couldn’t understand. “Then why didn’t you just go?” “Because I loved you girls, and I wanted you to come with me. To share the wealth.” “But you had to wait until the blood moon.”

“Dong. Dong. Dong. The third toll of the church bells hovered in the air, and everything became still. Someone in the village had died. Valerie froze. Dong. A forth toll shattered the silence. The world split open, exposing a raw inside. Valerie and Peter looked at each other first in confusion, then in awful understanding. The fourth bell meant only one thing: Wolf attack. She had never heard the fourth bell except for the time she and Peter had rung it themselves. With those bells, Valerie knew. Life would never be the same,”

“She never even told me how she felt," Valerie thought aloud, feeling the betrayal in her gut. How had she been so blind? Her sister had loved Henry silently. Did she know about the engagement? Did she overhear our parents planning? Valerie supposed it was possible, but it seemed unlikely since they were always together. Would it have broken her heart? "Don't worry, you poor child," Madame Lazar said, seeming almost disinterested in the subject of Lucie's death. "I know you're worried about your sister, but Henry always had his eye on you. You are—were always the pretty one.”