Lost Calling
Once, during the terror of the French Revolution, a handful of women fought for starving citizens, rescued innocents marked for death — and watched their dreams drown in a sea of blood. They risked their lives for a collection of ancient Madonna artifacts, in the hopes that someday one of their descendants might use them to save the world.
That first earthquake was not my fault.
Even if God did smite sinners, would He not use the standard thunderbolts? I am no saint. But even I haven't the conceit to claim an entire natural disaster!
My grandmother could. One of her favorite sayings was, "This is your fault, Catrina." Although if anyone could will earthquakes into existence, she… But I digress.
A rush of feathers and coos startled me from self-pity as I strolled from the hospital. Grateful for the distraction, I looked up. Doves burst from the sycamore trees that lined the avenue and scattered into the blue Parisian sky. Hmm.
I glanced over my shoulder to see that, certainement, the slight, gray-haired figure who'd been following me on and off for more than a week had returned as well.< ... read full excerpt from: Lost Calling ebook
