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.Changing.No.Not Leonard.Not him, too.Melissa saw.She stood, abandoning the remains of the thing that I guess was once Daniel, and she held up that big Spanish knife I’d given her.It slipped in her grip.She was soaked in blood, drenched in it.***I looked away.I looked for McKenzie, but he was gone.A spot of blood and wet dirt marked the spot where he’d fallen—but not stayed.***Melissa climbed past the broken pews.She stared down at him, and if the blood hadn’t obscured her face so thoroughly, I might have known more of what she was thinking when she said to him, before she brought the knife down on his throat and carved out the last of his life,“Thank you.”Table of ContentsCopyrightTable of ContentsAcknowledgementsPart One: The Wreck of the Mary ByrdIIIIIIIVVVIVIIVIIIIXXXIXIIXIIIXIVXVPart Two: Halfway to HolinessIIIIIIIVPart Three: Our Lady of the Wasteland and the Hallelujah ChorusIIIIIIIVVVIVIIVIIIIXXXIXIIXIIIXIVXVXVI
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