Or... She sped to the shuttered window and cracked it open. The thick wooden shutters kept the insides of the house relatively cool. When Tear poked h...r head out of the window, the scorching afternoon heat hit her like a padded mace. The sun stung her sensitive eyes as it hung still way above the horizon.Maybe Desire was very literal. Maybe her ... gift only worked at night, as Tear had asked. You’re a priestess. Interpreting a deity’s will is what you do. But why is it so bloody difficult?. Even at eight forty-five on a Monday, the woman looked like a taller version of Heather Locklear in a power suit. Prettier, too, with all the beauty and none of the harder edges. The glass walls allowed Denise to follow her progress down the hall. Denise hated the fact that she spent so much time trying to find fault with Mademoiselle Manceaux, some chink in the ‘charmor’ that would enable her to legitimately despise the bitch. Maybe she abused small animals or kicked homeless people as they. More

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