Justin Morningway did not consider himself to be evil. Say, rather, that he was practical. It mattered little to him whether the magics he invoked were Dark or White, so long as it got the job done. Was it his fault that the Dark was so much more effective
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Maps of the village were tacked to the wall. A gun was laid on the table, newly cleaned, a switch blade with a peculiar iron blade beside it. On the other side of the desk, a book on fairy lore, and a small sheet of notes that represented all the knowledge that he and Cousin Stanoczk had been able to find about the whereabouts of Morningway or Dresden.
John paced like a tiger between maps, book, and weapons.
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John moved quietly to the door to the bathroom, flattened himself on one wall, and peeked around the corner.
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Well. He didn't have a sword, and the only mirror was attached quite firmly to the wall. His tiny iron blade, useful as it was, would probably not serve him particularly well in this case.
John started towards the hallway door. Was it too much to hope that his houseguest would stay there while he better equipped himself?
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"Why do you run from my armsssssss?"
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"Stop moving, ma'am, or I'm going to shoot you in the face."
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