He was in the spacious bed on the second floor of his home, sure, butthere was no other explanation for the lovely creature currently writhingin pleas...re as she lay with him than him meeting a real-life angel. Theexperience was arousing on so many planes it had resurrected sides of himhe thought were long dead and gone, and he vigorously thrust into theelven girl straddling him, finding her tight and welcoming.He had to bite his lip when his mind briefly flashed back to when hehanded his wife. The figure perched a few feet away, where the limb forked looked nothing like any of the above types. It was humanoid, with talon-capped hands gripping the wood. The robe it wore broke up the thing’s silhouette, but John could See right into the hood. Red-tinted eyes stared at him over a fanged snarl. Behind the pointed incisors and uncanny gaze was the same ugly menace he’d Seen in the Onyxhart guard’s superior. A central core of intense heat radiated from the skull and throat, fading to. If you don't sit down and do what you're told, I'll—"James lifted his arm from his waist bag, in his hand he leveled his Navy M1911 at her face, cutting her off midsentence. James calmly used his thumb to pull back the hammer making a metallic clicking noise that anyone who watched television or films would recognize.Calmly, he said, "Hand the knife slowly to Crewman ... I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name?" Watts, Julie Watts, sir," the young woman who saved Jessica's life answered."Jessica,. ..”Straw-grasping. We all knew it.Life rolls on. Even with a bullseye on my back.Gertie asked me to sit in on a Harold-meeting at his house. “It’s a-come-to-jesus meeting, Winter. You might learn something.”“Sure.” Plus she needed a ride.After the Sullivans backgrounded Pantone, I tasked them with Harold Hudson. His history was mostly what I had expected. Hardscrabble. No father, not active in his life anyway. Petty crimes, mother a deadbeat meth-head, the usual.But he was a striver. Not.
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