Letters in the Shadow
But pressed firmly into the back was a dollop of deep, blood-red wax, stamped with the exact same thorned emblem.
Someone had slipped it into my bag while I was sitting under the jasmine tree at school.
My hands shook so violently I could barely hold the brass letter opener sitting on my desk. I slid the blade beneath the wax seal, breaking it with a soft, decisive snap. I pulled out the single sheet of thick parchment inside. Written in elegant, flowing black ink was a single line:
"The past does not sleep in this town, Sarah... and your father knows the price."