9. You are your nephew's executioner, or he is yours. "I must go. She was young and bright, little to no make-up except for lip-gloss, long, straight, glossy reddish blonde hair slightly past her shoulders. "Ah! now we come to business," returned Jonathan, rubbing his hands, gleefully. What she did not know, and what she was never to know, was that the divine fire was hers. 272 < 34 > EPILOGUE She paced the Manhattan neighborhood, her backpack swinging, marveling at the austere buildings gleaming silver in their starkness. Presently repellance grew under the frozen mask of astonishment and dissipated it. But I may yet live to thwart them. ‘You’re the most troublesome wretch I’ve ever encountered,’ he told her bitterly. He refused to believe that Anna was not ‘Alcide.
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