The fog was starting to clear. Knox didn't know it was because Mary was finally starting to sober up. He checked the tape recorder, then turned back to Mary.
Mary scraped her claws through her wild hair, alive and writhing on her shoulders, refusing to lie down and obey. "He took my son from me."
"He won't let you write? You can't even send a letter?" Knox said.
Mary had a one track mind and the path had never diverted to sending messages, notes. Writing. She barely knew how. That was something she did a long time ago. She had no use for it in the present.
But it was an idea. She rose from the chair, drifted out of the room.
Knox called out, "When will I see you again?"
YOU ARE READING
The Lamb and the Gray Battle
FantasíaEvie has spent the last 575 years on the North American continent, now called America, the Pure and Clean. She smiles, volunteers and makes cakes and pastries for her neighbors, hiding away her demon blood. She wants nothing to do with her estranged...
