Wood, "and I'll take care of Thames. ’ Both hands about the butt of her unwieldy pistol, Melusine glared at him. ’ ‘What son?’ asked Roding. He made a quick movement towards her, but she did not flinch. But she no longer obsessed over heresy, no longer did she feel cursed by God. Shari squealed, clutching her towel around her. Could she go through with it? She must. She did not bother with the backpack despite its due tomorrow status. The thought of their faces, and particularly of her aunt’s, as it would meet the fact— disconcerted, unfriendly, condemning, pained—occurred to her again and again.
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