From Lilith Saintcrow’s The Watchers, Book Four.

“I thought we were dead,” she whispered again. “Jack.”

If I wasn’t so old, we might well be dead. A younger Watcher couldn’t have taken that kind of fall, even with a Lightbringer to protect. I’m not even sure I survived it.

Die later, Jack. Take care of business now. “Are you hurt?”


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