Hello, my friends! So dorko me forgot to sign up for Weekend Writing Warriors last week. It was on my calendar. The reminder came up. But, yeahhh. This weekend was scheduled for the Famine cover shoot, but that got bumped. So I'm hanging with you guys. Anyhoo, since nasty ol' Ewan got such a warm reception two weeks ago, I think I'll give you another scene with him. In this one, he's shown up uninvited at Bartholomew's house.
“—send you back to Hell,” Mrs. Henderson was saying, her voice calm and firm.
Quiet as a shadow, Bartholomew slipped through the kitchen and down the hall toward the great, curving staircase. He peered around the corner to see Ewan’s back and didn’t fail to notice the gaping hole in the ravener’s left shoulder.
The Governess stood atop the second floor landing, a steady rifle aimed at the Scot. Mr. Vernon, his nose bloodied and eye swelling, stood mid-stairs, his fists up and ready.
“I’m from Inverness, woman, not Hell,” Ewan replied.
Glass crunched beneath his feet as Bartholomew stepped into the foyer behind the ravener. “Doubtless they’re pleased to be rid of you.”
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