Everyone knew the Hans Christian Andersen fairytale about the Sandman and how he brought sweet dreams to sleepers. An early, now-defunct Reve company had even used him as their mascot. But that's all the Sandman had been - a mascot. A little grinning...
They moved as a unit, a first for her. The madman and the nightmare.
She glanced again toward Vincent. "And who is he again?" Vincent grinned. "I'm Vincent Blackman of the SpiderSly Company. Mirren and I are going to sleep together; we just have to get through this bullshit of her father's first.
The wind stilled a bit and he blinked the sand out of his eyes. Before him stood nothing less than the god of the Scrape. It had to be a god. He was huge, muscled, hung like an elephant, and sandy gold, just like his domain.
Who the fuck is the Sandman?" Still ludicrous. A fairy tale. Mirren crossed her legs and shifted in her seat. Elvis winked at him from her breasts. "It's not like I've met Him. My father never invited Him over to dinner. He's ---" she took a deep bre...
So either I help you or I'm on my own?" With no way to get to Lambert. No way to stop the rage inside. No way to feel remotely normal again. "That's the choice," she said.
...now the whole fucking world is different." "It's about to get worse," Steve said. "Then I'll call for food," Vincent said. "Mirren, this might be our last meal. Any preferences?
Tonight was about fathers. Vince was going to kill hers for murdering his.
