As usual the substantive sister—Prudence—did all the talking for the pair; Angelina, the shadow, offered only her submitting nods. Puffy blue curtains dressed every oakstained window. She brought her face to his chest, turning her head sideways so he would not notice her elongated canines. The executioner shook his head. “My Mom makes more money than my Dad, a lot more. She twisted her fingers tightly. She cried as he watched, frozen to the ground. Not so Gosse. I am five-and-thirty, and I have knocked about in the world and tasted the quality of life. This was what he missed. Several people were passed out on the sectional sofa, and muffled noises emanated from other rooms indicating that the party’s embers were still smoldering, but John was nowhere to be seen. ‘Quite mad, nuns are. "I am, Charcoal.
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