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Shame filled her like a mouthful of ashes. She pushed herself away from the Seer and turned around. Shan was a prisoner in River Holt. Because it tastes like sawdust. Come to that, why do Feyna delicacies have challenge the taste buds? Arent your Shistra-Phail warriors fearsome hunters? Can no one track down anything so exotic as eggs? Part II Rowan, weve had several conversations …, says Aubrey, with a sigh so heartfelt it seems to come from her toes. Every possible effort was made to ensure the King book hit big .... Which is three or four hundred miles in any direction. The phone is our best bet. Lets head to the station. We could use Max on this one too. Between him and Calvin, they can cut the time charting the latitudes and longitudes on the pings. He isnt dead, Shan. Im the same as ever, so Gilliad is very much alive. Wed prefer to wait until you get here, maam. Sorry, I have to go. Some people come and scatter their ashes here without asking permission, explains Crow, as Snowdrop looks for the right expression for her face to relax into. Theyve had to put a stop to it because it was starting to look like thered been a dirty snowfall round here, so your chances of buying a plot are zilch. You can still be buried if theres a family plot though even then it’s a pain for the ground staff. A curl of paper pinwheels across the darkness, fluttering up and down like a dying moth. It skitters up against the gap beneath the door and Rowan, struggling to pull his eyes away from the mural, reaches out for it, painfully, with aching forefinger and thumb. His fingers close around a scrap of flimsy paper, a smudge of neat black typeface on its singed surface. The words swim in his vision.…grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness. Its a Bible passage. He recognizes the line. Recognizes the paper too. A Gideon; the paper almost see-through. The edge is tattered, as if it has been torn. Something is nagging at him, some unpleasant feeling; the memory burrowing deeper out of reach; a tick somewhere in his flesh. He suddenly needs to meet Violet Rayner. Needs to know shes okay. For a moment, the story doesnt matter. He forgets all thoughts of headlines and front covers and stops composing opening lines and polished lies in his head. Thinks of her. Of them. Three girls who went into the woods. The two who came back. The one who never did. Who the fuck are you? thought Samara. The diagnosis of DID hadnt surprised me. Bits and pieces of memories that werent mine had surfaced over the past year as I pulled my life back together. Id read everything I could find on multiple personalities, and the bottom line was humans were multifaceted. With every mood switch, changes occurred both inside the body and externally. The mind would go to great lengths to protect itself. In some cases, the mind created barriers to emotions and memories. Without those barriers, I couldn’t have survived. Max wheeled to the table and pulled up the video.Theres a picture in the last frame I wanted to ask you about. Shoot her. Rowan looks up, as he hears the girl mutter the correct answer to the Bond conundrum, slightly louder than the previous four times she has tried to get a word in. Rowan pretends to suddenly recognise her.You were at the group, werent you? The writing group – at the posh house with the woman who sounded like Penelope Keith? You stood out. Youngest by about thirty years, Id say. Ill leave right away, he told her..