I blew Susan's hair out of her face, and she slowly awoke beside me. She slept in her shift; I was wearing just my shirt as usual. It was almost as co...d as outdoors in her little cabin despite the carefully banked fire, but I threw back the quilt to her knees and said, "Look." Despite blotchy stripes, swollen veins, a blood blister and a discolored head, I was proud of it."Well," Susan said as I flipped the quilt back up cover us, "my goodness." I caressed her soft back, feeling the raised. The tag on his lapel read TYLER, F. Verity had often wondered what the 'F' stood for, but had never summoned up the courage to ask. She was under strict instructions never to engage the bodyguards in private conversation. They walked past a chain of sumptuous Rococo sculptures depicting the Rape of Persephone ('rape' being the operative word in this case), arriving before an enormous oaken door, half as tall as a Los Angeles apartment block. Verity's gaze wandered up to the coat of arms. More

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