Last week. She had not seen him in two and a half centuries. Sebastian dug through the viscous layers of foul-smelling clay with a shovel, each successive insertion creating an obscene sucking noise that ate at her sanity. "Is it by lettin' you go, my darlin', that I'm to airn it?" inquired Terence. . "Be still, and you'll receive no injury," returned Jackson. Instead, God had sent her Sebastianus, a man who had sold his soul to the Devil to gain eternal life, or perhaps he was even the Devil himself. “You promised faithfully to be there,” he said slowly. His voice had broken. . She could feel Martin’s eyes boring into her as she entered the room, her own personal Farhat.
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