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Summary
“Aren't you a Saint?” she said. Her voice curled around the words, as if whispering them to a lover. “You say that the Devil is in me.” She pressed against him, her eyes pinning him in place. “So purify me. Perform your miracle.”
Malthus dreams of Hilda. He doesn't sleep on his mattress anymore.
Series
- Part 3 of hagiography
