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Every time his men went up against them they got the short end of the stick. Even his women outfought him, and he didn’t even want to think about what two litle girls did to Preacher’s crew. Between them they had lost a bunch of men, and all they had to show for it was a little blond hellcat that cussed them better than any hand he’d ever seen. He had to admire her, though. She fought them to a standstill, standing over her downed sister at the end. He was surprised to hear that she intended her last bullet to be hers, and if that little gun hadn’t malfunctioned she would be dead right now. That crazy preacher keeps insisting she was his blood daughter, and it’s his right to flog her. It was all Butch could do to keep him away from her. If he lost, he needed her to be in good shape, to trade for his life and freedom.He grinned, remembering how she bit the ear off a new member of his gang. He was a youngster, and Butch knew he’d end up dead somewhere pretty soon, he didn’t have the. "Tea?" Sure," you answered. A beer would be nice too, but it had to wait. Clarice was an innocent girl, perhaps that's why she chose a weekend sleepover instead of throwing a party. It's like being a teen all over again. You didn't know her too well, but she was a close friend of your sister.You reached down your pocket and felt the touch of your crystal necklace. Father left it at your table before he disappeared. Beside the blue jewel was a note, you remembered the scene clearly. The note said that it's the same necklace father used for his hypnosis and that it was his most powerful focus. This weekend was a good time to try it out. And sadly for the girls, you had some dubious things in mind.Music blared from upstairs. The kitchen was bright white, and different tea types in colorful boxes crowded the counter. You heard a female clear her throat. "Don't touch the cinnamon."She had her obsidian hair in a short style ending just after her ears, like something from the 1920s. Her.
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