“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.
Sometimes a thing isn’t good or evil in itself. The sequence is a thing like this. It becomes good or evil when you touch it. If you are good, it becomes good. If you are evil, it becomes evil. But we humans…we are both. What happens when we touch it?
Sam lay her fingers on the page where those words were written. The man who’d written them had been dead for almost a century. Continue reading