. The noose was at its throat when I called for help. She was beauty, the key of magic, the teacher of spells, the predictor of wars, and the gate of the future. It is not for myself I fear. ’ ‘Mercy me,’ gasped the nun. ” She said. 272 < 34 > EPILOGUE She paced the Manhattan neighborhood, her backpack swinging, marveling at the austere buildings gleaming silver in their starkness. He moved her dress from her shoulders and off her torso.
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