He, the power of demons, the harbinger of bad, he is fortressed against death and only some can defeat his power. – Bloodsongs. ~~~ (Art) ART DROPPED OFF Julie at her huge house. She babbled on and on, all the way to her home, said how sorry she was, but she was incoherent, almost drunk on painkillers and Art couldn’t gather what she was talking about or why she was sorry. She stepped out and said sorry to him again, turned and walked away, looking still frail and weak. He sat in his car staring at the empty night, the few stars in the sky, the lonely looking trees and then he drove around, in an aimless circle before he found himself sitting in Sallie’s, eating a chicken pie, not really eating. What am I doing here, he mused. There was no answer except he didn’t want to go back home, not right now. “Arthur? How is Ariana? Is she okay? How are her wounds?” He looked up to see Lyka taking the chair next to him, her eyes worried. “And why are you not with her?” He stared at her,
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