Hello Friends, old and new, and welcome back to another Weekend Writing Warrior installment. Thanks, all, for visiting and leaving thoughtful and enthusiastic comments last week. You guys made me smile. :D As promised, I'm returning to my paranormal WIP, First Comes Famine, and Bartholomew. Last week we saw him cutting, and then comforting, eight-year-old Matilde as she slept with her little brother. The explanation of why he does this follows today's eight.
The girl settled back into sleep with a small sigh.
The sweet scent of her blood spurred him on, and Bartholomew brushed his lips across the cut—the lightest kiss—then slid the bandage into place and pressed the wound until the bleeding ceased. As he held her hand, he licked his lips. A shudder spread through him. His nerves flared, burning bright with the strength of the child’s soul. The immeasurable power of the Catcher, so long dormant within his own blood, stretched, surged, and demanded to be free.
“I’ve found you.” Bartholomew’s whispered words were as much a cry of horror as a sigh of relief.
What's going on? Bartholomew has spent eleven centuries hunting for a body to hold the immortal soul of the Catcher. He's just confirmed that Matilde is the intended vessel. (The Catcher's job is to capture the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse before they can bring about the untimely end of the world.)
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