“I know what it looks like to most, but he’s actually quite friendly.”
The woman named Irina laughed and tipped her head toward the toddler picking dehydrated marshmallows out of his cereal. “I could say the same for him.”
She glanced down at Angel, who lowered his head and kept his mouth closed, trying to appear as harmless as was possible for him. Angel was born of a dog, but he was…different.
Zia had a singular passion, and she believed, a destiny, to play guitar. She began playing when she was twelve years old. She’d asked for a guitar for her birthday, hoping for an electric. Her father bought her a steel-stringed acoustic instead. Seven years later, she bought herself a blue electric guitar and named it Duke. Zia was a talented guitarist, but her talent didn’t hold a candle to that of her friend Edie, whose instrument of choice was the fiddle. Thick as thieves, peas in a pod, cosmic sisters were they, even after one of them sold her soul to the Devil.
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