By Colleen Foley
I’d nearly broken my thumb on Seth’s jaw
and I was pissed about him using my blood again. But silently fuming
“OK Salem, help me out. There was a webpage
and a loom, some ugly-ass music, and now we’re gonna kill something.
What I don’t know is where that something is. Do you? ”
His grin was merciless.
“I do. I traced the IP address of the website. We’re going to a new age shop called The Brightest Lamp, in Detroit.”
Punching him again would result only in a pair of nearly broken thumbs.
I kept driving.