Grachi’s stomach dropped. “You mean… you?”
But then she reached for her toothbrush, and it flew across the room, landing bristle-first in her orange juice. grachi
Doña Sofía stepped out from behind the altar, furious. “Clever. But heart won’t save you from me.” Grachi’s stomach dropped
The power didn’t explode. It extended . She raised her hands, not in anger, but in intent. The broken floorboards wove themselves back together. The shattered stained glass flew into place, reforming the image of a weeping saint. And the three hunters? Their guns turned into sunflowers. Their flashlights became maracas. They stood there, bewildered, shaking maracas in the dark. and it flew across the room