For the full story so far, go here:
59: Once, she gave me a death-stone, a tiny thing, carved onto a fragile bird-bone, stained red with blood. “What does it do?” I asked.
60: Her laugh: “It kills, of course. But be careful. It will only work on those you truly hate. No cold crimes of convenience for you, my girl.”
61: “Only crimes of passion?” I laughed feebly and I put the stone away in my sock drawer, not wanting to think of it. It was a dark thing.
62: Perhaps she’d hoped I’d use it on my husband. I thought: if I was a murderer, she’d be more attracted to me. She was a wild thing, my Sass.
63: But I am not dark, not wild. I am sensible Alexis, prim and proper even in the grip of a mad, infatuated love. I chose divorce, not murder.
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