He had collapsed into a little ball, his forehead on the floor, arms trapped under his body, his weight resting on his legs. My words were bland, but I watched his face long enough to see the reaction. I went back to staring at the pictures, and suddenly I could see it. Then uniforms arrive on the scene first.
Peter ignored it all and got in the car as soon as he could as if afraid Ted might try to hug him, too. If this was the servant, how scary was the master going to be? I sat there at the stone table, flexing my shoulders to feel the tightness of the shoulder holster. Fun though, I said. I'm here as a preternatural advisor, not an executioner.
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