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Pickle sits forward as if imparting a confidence.Thats a good conversation starter, actually. Gets people talking. Hers was a belter. She said the first time she smoked she was still at school and some busker gave her a blowback from this massive greathard-on of a joint. Shes not very well, Im sure you spotted that. She wont talk about it and she won’t accept a lift to her appointments but she’s been at the hospital a lot this past year. Still, she’s doing good for her age. Max came closer.You okay? Shan gave a low groan of acceptance, of defeat, and returned her kiss, her touch, her love. And for a moment she believed once more that they could make this work. Somehow. That they could cheat the vision destiny seemed to be pushing them towards and win the other. As Jeren and Gilliad rode into the Greeting Square, the throng gathered there burst out clapping and cheering. When they crested the bridge the sound erupted into something close to a frenzy. Silence descended as Gilliads friend Maldrine Ket crossed the square and bowed low before Gilliad. He beamed, his grey eyes bright. Im not like this, mumbles Rowan, pushing open the door and feeling the cold air slap his hot face. He glances back at the other drinkers. Im not like this, he says, again. Daddy says I need to stop letting things get on top of me, explains Catherine. Im not one of the special pupils but he wants me to think about seeing Mr Sixpence. Maybe have a healing. Max looked over his shoulder.Uh-oh what? He took a moment to catch his breath.I cant tell you how sorry I am, Dakota. You dont have to go in there. Max has already identified the bodies. Ah, that was the question, wasnt it? His hesitation and embarrassment must have shown. He shifted and flushed as a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. Women of River Holt were trouble. That was for sure. That language is mad, says Freya, cocking her head towards the music. What is it? I cant make it out. And Khain stood between them. She emerges from the gloom like an iceberg. At first shes just a single blue light, a dot of gaudy azure, static in the darkness. Then, like an image forming on photographic paper, she becomes Evelyn Cater . Rowan finds himself being scrutinized by a small, round, elderly woman: her grey curls framing a round face. Her features are sunken, unpretty: dark eyes and a Roman nose, fleshy around the neck, as if she is sinking into herself. Shes smoking an electronic cigarette, the tip glowing bright with each drag. It casts an eerie light, a blue halo, like a police lamp, illuminating a plain round-necked sweatshirt atop a floral shirt with a twisted collar. Shes staring straight at him, her face inscrutable. Rowan suppresses a shiver. For an instant he feels like a child. Can imagine a coterie of giggling schoolchildren hidden somewhere nearby, watching as the bravest of their number knocks on the door at a witch’s cottage. He tries to make himself look innocent. Manages a smile and a roll of the eyes and an elaborate pantomime of gestures, pointing at the door and signalling that he had tried to phone, that he could just have a moment of her time, that she should think of him as a welcome presence. Once she would have reached out for her owl, but she couldnt do that anymore. She listened to the sounds of her home, her final home in all likelihood. If Gilliad had his way, she would die and she welcomed it. Better that, surely, that become subject to the dark god, Khains to do with as he pleased. You left him there? Jeren exclaimed, incredulous. You left Shan there as a prisoner? Theres room in my tent, Lara offered. Jeren recognised them. The wife had a gossips tongue. The husband wasnt much better. They were listening closely. She stopped and snapped her head up, staring at the picture. A little further, comes a voice, in the darkness. You are so close…, He called me his mate, didnt he?.