FAO
I smelled him before I saw him.
That rotten scent — lies and weakness and the cologne that couldn't quite cover the stench of a man who thought he owned things he had no right to. It drifted through the house, tainting everything, and I felt my hackles rise before I understood why.
"Something wrong?" Elowen's father was watching me with sharp eyes. "You look like you've seen a ghost."
"I thought I smelled something." I forced my voice to stay level. "It's nothing."
"Probably Margaret's cooking." He chuckled and handed me a glass of whiskey. "Don't tell her I said that."
I took the glass but didn't drink. The smell was getting stronger. Closer.
Then Margaret's voice drifted from the other room: "...just an old friend of yours..."
And I knew.
I set the glass down carefully — so
