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Mrs. B. was a great teacher for 10th grade English. Funny, engaging, personable—and a bit flirty. She was in her late-20s, just a couple years out of The University of Michigan, cute, nice body and flaming red hair that cascaded over her shoulders and down her back. She knew the boys all lusted after her and she did nothing to discourage our interest. Students even gave her a nickname, “Bubbles.” The administration was not pleased, but Mrs. B. didn’t seem to mind. She liked the attention. Oh, and I think that we actually learned a lot of English Lit between the horsing around.

“Once again, that half-pint bastard is a thorn in my side. Years spent tiptoeing around him, trying to keep my plans hidden. Soon, we’ll deal with him. As for Veres, I have plans for him. He’s going to pay for what his bitch daughter did. Her little tantrum against marrying Galvin was an annoying setback, but she and that little brothel will pay. To think that the monster that killed Leonard was a whore from the Knight’s Sheath! Saved me all the trouble of doing it myself and framing the Profane! Fate smiles upon me! Cyrilo and Noah ruined my life, and I swear, I’ll get my vengeance on them if it’s the last thing I do! It’s only a matter of proper timing.”

“Yeah,” her dad continued, “I didn’t sleep as good as last night either, not bad, but definitely not feeling as chipper as yesterday,” he finished with a shrug.