’ Melusine’s arm crept up around his neck. He was a square-faced man of nearly fifty, with iron-gray hair a mobile, cleanshaven mouth and rather protuberant black eyes that now scrutinized Ann Veronica. His first reaction had been explosive as the hurts of the past rose up to taunt him. Rhea’s head exploded into a spray of blood, brain, and bone. Damn! I’ve splashed.
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