FABLE
the angel with the curly hair whines, holding out her bloody hand.
I don't remember doing it, but it explains the bad taste in my mouth.
"I'm sure she 'ad good reason ter bite yer," Lyall says, his normally sweet Irish accent now angry, hot and full of fire. "Yer were piled up on top of her. And we all heard de screamin'."
His big brown eyes meet mine, and I feel my heart sink.
This is how I'm meeting my idols.
The angels start whining, pleading with Alastaire to let them stay. He just shakes his head.
Hot Chapters