Explore "Special Delivery" by Kris Neville on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
She was just outside the door and Parr felt something like momentary confusion before the hate came. Yet when it did it was tinged and colored as he thought of her walking toward them, alone. He tried to concentrate on her remembered image, tried to call up the previous hate in all its glory. He could not; instead, even the hate he knew drained away. In its place he felt -- not fear exactly -- not fear for himself but of the inevitability of death. Not his death -- hers.
He saw Kal's lips curl, and then he winced. Fingernails dug into his palms.