Alistair stood rooted to the spot, his mind reeling in shock.
Just days ago, Josephine had been laughing playfully, her voice and her face still vivid in his memory. How could she now be a mutilated corpse, burned beyond recognition?
A phantom hand wrenched his heart, crushing it with icy fingers until he could barely breathe.
"This cannot be."
His voice cracked as he muttered hoarsely, "Josephine, she cannot be gone."
Desperation clawed at him as he grasped at straws. They had crawled from dark places together, survived impossible odds. She was a survivor, clever and favored by the heavens. Death could not claim her so easily.
Then delusion sparked. Of course. He had been neglecting her lately. This had to be her dramatic way of punishing him.
Swallowing the lump in his throat, he
