Perhaps this was the real turning point: the hour in which the disordered mind began permanently to readjust itself. The Wastrel wiped the blood from his forehead. Oh, God!” Rhea sniffed the air through two gaping nostrils that had eroded through her onion skin flesh. Instead, she laughed, laughed with lips and eyes, laughed till the tears ran down her cheeks. For days I have been undecided as to whether I would come to you or no. ’ Quick anger flared, surpassing the fluttering hope. I snatched it up, pointed it blindly at him, and fired. “The rest,” she said, holding tightly to his hands, “is the most important of all.
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