“You think I’m going to allow you to fob me off with some kind of glorified nursemaid, you’d better think again.”
The explosion when it came ripped the air as cleanly as the knife he’d thrown at the wall. “Nursemaid,” he repeated in a voice colder than an arctic wind, and watched in fascination as she stood up straight, flexed her shoulders, crossed the room and snatched a couple of foils of the wall and threw one at him.
Sunlight glinted on the blade in her hand and the deep red hair, almost auburn, he thought, and wondered why it reminded him of a halo. If she was an angel she’d come straight from the fires of Hell.
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