When the word “FREAK” appeared scratched in the persimmon colored paint on her locker, she knew that in some fragile young woman’s mind a war had escalated from imaginary to physical. ’ Chapter Twelve In the elegantly appointed blue saloon, Melusine sat disconsolate, gazing out of the window at the dull sky. This time they would call it murder. Doesn’t matter a bit to me. Alors, how did you get in?’ ‘Oh, we broke in,’ Gerald told her cheerfully.
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