Under a Killing Moon
#6
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indent “Please? Yes. Please...” The hybrid nearly whispered hearing but not hearing. His eyes had gone foggy, and he could no longer feel the ground under his feet. This was part of the evolutionary process—in order to rebuild, he had to break down. That was the simplistic truth of the world. Equal and opposite reaction. Nothing would be solved until he had that stranger’s heart in his hand and had spilled his guts onto the earth. The soul lived in the belly. The enemy’s strength was in his heart. Where had he learned that? He didn’t remember anymore.

indent Around his neck, the cross and the charm of Saint Christopher fell, dangling in the air as he extended his neck to smell the boy. He smelled like his father, though Gabriel would not recognize the man if they met. He barely recognized the scent, though it was deeply imbued in his psyche and unforgettable. It touched him like a ghost, the dream of a dream, the memory of falling in love, the first kill, the last time he had seen Faolin’s smile.






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