CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE 8 page

No one approached them without a summons. Not even Cronus, the god king. And in all of Kane’s centuries, he had never met anyone who had received one. Until today. He, Disaster, was the lucky recipient.

He’d just returned from town, having spent the entire night searching for Hunters. Finding none—Strider must have killed them all before he left, the greedy bastard—he’d fallen straight into bed, still wearing his weapons, leather and boots. Before he could switch off his lamp, a glowing string had unfurled from his ceiling, a yellowed scroll hanging from the end.

He’d read the parchment, as confused then as he was now. A cross between a wedding invitation and a prescription medicine wrapper, the thing had been written in ancient Greek.

You are cordially invited to the Temple of the Fates. Failure to appear could result in decapitation or death.

Decapitation or death? Really? Then, an instant later, his surroundings had faded and he’d been standing inside this temple, those walls of thread all around him. He’d kicked into gear, thinking any hesitation on his part would result in that decapitation. Or death.

So while he knew where he was, what he didn’t know was why. Why him? Why now?

Guess he’d find out.

The wall tapestries seemed to go on forever, but finally—unfortunately?—he reached the end of the line and entered a…weaving room? Three women, hags really, sat on wooden stoops, hunched over, long white hair frizzing over their shoulders. All three wore white robes, pristine and unwrinkled.

The one with hands spotted by age—Klotho, he knew from the legends surrounding them—spun the threads. The one with gnarled fingers, Lachesis, wove the strands together, and the one with pupil-less eyes, Atropos, snipped the ends.

Kane pressed his lips together, silent. He waited to be acknowledged, respectful of a power far greater than his own. And perhaps that’s why they had picked him, he thought then. None of the other Lords would have treated them with the deference they deserved and punishment would have had to be issued.

If they only knew the truth. He might know how to dish the respect, but really, he was the group’s biggest screwup. The one who couldn’t do anything right. The one left behind because he had a tendency to cause more harm than good. He never dropped his smile, though. Not here, and not around his friends. He didn’t want them to know the truth. He didn’t want them to know that, inside, he was just one big, steaming pile of mess.

For the most part, he operated on autopilot. When his demon became too much for him—the need to let go, the desire to obliterate, forget, pretend, filling him up—he…did things. Destroyed things.

Sabin, keeper of Doubt and the warrior Kane would have followed straight into hell, knew. But Sabin was the only one who did, and, not surprisingly, Sabin approved of his violence, even helped him channel it. Before taking off with his wife, Sabin had left him a little present. Part of him was eager to go back, to do what needed doing. The other part of him was content to remain here, waiting. He’d ignored that present to head into town, after all, thinking to resist the temptation. He’d even planned to nap upon his return. Anything to save his soul from further damage. But how much longer would he have lasted?

He stood there, waiting to be acknowledged, for an hour, perhaps two. Usually inactivity provoked his demon to act, creating some disaster or another. Maybe it was the ambrosia as he’d hoped, or maybe the demon was as afraid of the hags as everyone else in the heavens, but Disaster behaved, not even humming in the back of Kane’s mind, though that sound rarely ever faded.

“Why are you here, boy?” Klotho finally asked, her voice a cackle of smoke. She never looked up from her task.

Uh, what now? “I received your summons. My lady,” he added. Gods, he was such an ass-kisser. But a guy had to do what a guy had to do. He was wearing his cup, yeah, but that didn’t mean he should hang a sign on his nuts, requesting someone kick him there.

“Summon you? Why, that was thousands of years ago,” Lachesis replied. “I’m sure of it.”

“Sure of it,” Atropos echoed. “Yet you never came.”

“And so your summons was revoked.”

“You may leave the way you came.”

He could only gape at them. They’d summoned him thousands of years ago? Why hadn’t they decapitated him, then, for his failure to appear? “I mean no disrespect, but I only just now received your kind invitation.”

“Not our fault.”

“You probably weren’t paying attention.”

“Perhaps you’ll learn to pay attention.”

“You may leave the way you came.”

Reverence was one thing. Not having his curiosity assuaged was quite another. Besides, if they’d brought him here to impart words of wisdom that could save him and his friends, or to issue words of warning, he damn well wanted to hear those words. Therefore, he wasn’t leaving without them.

“May I purchase the information from you?” he asked.

“What information?”

“Who said anything about information?”

“You’re a dotty one, aren’t you?”

“You may leave the way you came.”

He flicked his tongue against one of his incisors. “If you didn’t wish to inform me of something, all those thousands of years ago—” he was careful to keep his ire out of his tone “—then why did you summon me in the first place?” The same question, asked in a roundabout way. Come on, take the bait. Tell me.

“Klotho, do you recall the last time someone tried to talk circles around us?”

“Oh, yes, Lachesis. We wove her into the never-ending.”

The never-ending what?

“Perhaps she’s learned her lesson.”

“Perhaps she hasn’t yet learned her lesson.”

“She didn’t leave the way she came.”

“Who is ‘she’?” he asked, standing his ground. A stupid move, perhaps, but he couldn’t leave the way he’d come, so what choice did he have? Flashing himself from one location to another with only a thought wasn’t an ability he possessed.

“She? She is your girl, of course,” Atropos said.

He blinked. “My girl, what?”

“The one in the never-ending.”

“No, no,” Klotho said. “She’s not his. The other one is. Or is it the other way around?”

“Mayhap they both are his,” Lachesis countered.

“She’s mine? They’re mine?” he gasped out. His what? Lovers? If so, no thanks. Been there, destroyed too many because of that. His women suffered, always. His demon made sure of it. Kane was better off alone.

“Of course she’s yours, though not the one in the never-ending. She belongs to no one. Unless she does, in fact, belong to you.”

The three cackled.

“Good one, sister mine. I’ll have to remember that for the warrior’s next summons.”

“Who does or doesn’t belong to me?” he asked, gaze darting from one hag to the other. Next summons?

“Irresponsibility, of course.”

“Irresponsibility,” he echoed. As in, the keeper of Irresponsibility? Kane knew the immortal was out there. There’d been more demons in Pandora’s box than naughty warriors, so the gods, desperate to contain the leftovers, had given them to the prisoners of Tartarus. Irresponsibility was one such leftover.

He’d even looked for…her. Shit. He’d always assumed the keeper was a man. His mistake, and one he wouldn’t make again. He and his friends wanted all demon-possessed immortals on their side. Which meant finding them before the Hunters did.

After all, Galen, keeper of Hope and the Hunters’ leader, could convince anyone of anything. And the last thing the Lords needed was for him to convince their brethren to destroy them.

“Didn’t I just say that?” one of them asked.

“You just said that.”

“You’re not too bright, are you, boy?”

“How do I get her out of the never-ending?” he asked, ignoring the question. He might not want a girlfriend, but he wanted to find this female demon-keeper. What could she do? What powers did she wield? “What is the never-ending, anyway?”

“How does he not know the answers to these questions?”

“Didn’t we tell him these answers already?”

“Perhaps our time line is off again,” Klotho said.

Again? How often did that happen? Better question—what were the consequences when it was off?

“Should we rewind?”

“Should we leap forward?”

Dear gods. Neither option seemed wise.

“Yes,” they said in unison, shaking the tapestry they were working on. A moment passed in silence, then another.

Then, “What are you doing here, boy?”

Kane found himself blinking again. Nothing had changed. Not his surroundings, not the women. Everything was the same as when he’d first entered the room, yet they’d forgotten he was here?

Had they rewound? Had they fast-forwarded? Shit. If so, what did that mean for him? “You summoned me,” he croaked out.

“Yes, yes. We summoned you.”

“Only this morn, too. Good of you to come so quickly.”

“Impressive.”

They must have rewound thousands of goddamn years. When he left this temple, would he return to ancient Greece? His stomach clenched.

“Such a worrier, you are.”

Could they read his thoughts then, as well as manipulate time? He really should have taken their advice and left the way he’d come. This was…this was as messed up as he was.

“As if we would disrupt the fabric of time for you.”

“You will return the way you came.”

Thank the gods. “You mentioned a female.”

“I didn’t mention a female. Did you mention a female?”

“Not me. I don’t mention a female to the keeper of Disaster for thousands of years.”

“Perhaps our time line is off again.”

Again, they shook the tapestry in their hands. He waited it out through several heartbeats of silence, his mouth dry, his knees knocking.

“I—I think I’ll leave the way I came,” Kane said, backing away inch by inch. He couldn’t take any more of this. They simply weren’t capable of giving him a straight answer, their minds unable to differentiate between the past and the future. “I thank you for inviting me, though, and for your hospitality. If you could just point the way out…”

Atropos, her eyes so white they resembled a blanket of snow, lifted her head from her scissors and seemed, impossibly, to be peering over at him. “Finally, you present yourself to us. After all this time, we had given up.”

He massaged the back of his neck. Did everyone who was summoned go through this? “Yes, finally.” He backed up one step, two. “I apologize for your wait and I thank you again for your time, but I really must—”

“Quiet.” Lachesis glanced up, as well, though her gnarled fingers never stilled. “We always know what happens, but never why it happens. You have made us wonder and wonder, and we would at last like an answer.”

“An answer to what?” he asked, pausing, unsure he wanted to know.

The third hag, Klotho, did not follow the others’ lead and glance at him. She simply said, “We want to know why you began the Apocalypse,” and continued spinning her threads without a care.

CHAPTER NINE

“LET ME GET THIS STRAIGHT,” Kaia whispered fiercely. “When you said scout the competition, you actually meant scout the competition?”

Strider cast her a quick glance as they used their elbows to pull the weight of their bodies along the twig- and dirt-laden ground. The moon was high and full, but with the canopy of leaves above them, its golden light skimmed the branches, never quite reaching them. No prob, though, because he’d trained his eyes to cut through darkness and zero in on the details that mattered.

Except tonight, he was concentrating on all the details that didn’t matter.

Unimportant: Kaia looked sexier than ever. His own personal GI Jane doll—the X-rated edition. She’d painted her face black and green to better blend into the night, and wore a black bandanna over her mass of red waves. Her short shorts had Booty Camp stamped across the ass.

Strider kept envisioning the vigorous de rigueur training at such a camp. The hands-on instructing. The type of discipline dished out to the attendees who misbehaved.

Hello, Stridey-Monster.

Just what he needed—his dick as hard as a steel pipe and rubbing against the ground, leaving a telltale trail. That damn kiss had ruined everything. Had he kept his tongue to himself, he could have continued thinking of Kaia as a friend and only a friend. Now, he just wanted to convince her that blow jobs were a mandatory part of their arrangement.

Don’t you dare speak up, he told his demon.

Silence.

Whew. “You’re damn straight I meant we’d scout them,” he finally said. A sharp stone scraped his stomach and he welcomed the sting. Helped clear his perspective. A discussion about goals—good. Fantasizing about his companion—bad. So, so wonderfully bad. “What’d you think I meant?”

“Well, duh. I thought you wanted to hobble them.”

Wait just a sec. “So it’s okay to bust your opponent’s kneecap before a competition, but it’s not okay to steal the grand prize for your…your…consort?” He almost couldn’t say the word. Doing so made their arrangement seem permanent, rather than temporary.

She stopped to gape at him. “I can’t believe you just asked that. Busted kneecaps are expected among my kind. Even encouraged.”

“I thought you’d never participated in the Harpy Games before?”

“True, but I watched my mother when she did.”

“Fine,” he grumbled. “You can do some hobbling.” Meanwhile, he’d stick to his original plan. While she decreased the number of her competitors, he would study the Harpy campsite. Layout, sentry placement, response times. “Use your hands, though, because knifing them seems a bit harsh.” Actually, he just didn’t want to accidentally track the blood inside the tents, leaving evidence of his intentions behind.

“Say no more. I came prepared for a little nonslashing action.” She slid one of her elegant hands down her…panties? She did. Sweet heaven, she did. Right in the center, where she was probably warm and wet, ready for his mouth, his cock. “I’ve got something I think you might like.”

Hell, yeah, she did. Stridey-Monster got real uncomfortable real fast, and yep, there was definite snakelike trailage behind him. Then Kaia shocked him by sliding her hand back up and holding out her palm. In the middle rested a small silver bar.

Disappointed and surprised, he frowned. “What’s that?”

“Watch.” She gripped one end and flicked her wrist. Snap. The bar grew several inches. Another flick, another few inches, until the damn thing resembled an oversize police baton. Or Stridey-Monster.

“I want one of those,” he said.

Her eyes glittered with relish. “I know, right. But hands to yourself, demon boy. This one’s mine. Now, come on.” She skidded back into motion.

“Hey. I’m your consort. What’s yours is mine, Harpy girl.” And what’dya know? Saying the title hadn’t been such a chore that time.

He crawled after her. Finally they reached the edge of the makeshift camp, as evidenced by the fire crackling in the heart of the grounds. In his early days here on earth, his hunting of Hunters had very often led him to camps just like this one. Multiple tents, boulders acting as chairs, and fowl roasting over the flames. Only, there’d always been soldiers patrolling the area.

“No one’s here,” he whispered.

“I know,” Kaia replied. She sighed, despondent.

The occupants had left in a hurry. The scuff of their boots in the dirt was evidence of that, as though they’d been moving too swiftly to pick up their feet. The fowl was burned, charring more and more with every second that passed, plumes of black smoke wafting toward the sky. There was a water bottle lying flat, liquid gushing from it.

“I heard them abandoning ship,” she added, “but I hoped there would be a few stragglers. Doesn’t anyone defend their turf anymore?”

She’d heard them? When he, a trained soldier, hadn’t heard a goddamn thing? No need for an ego check. He sucked. Don’t forget Mission One. The Rod—and not the one in your pants. “I’ll give the place an inspection. You stay here and act as lookout.”

“No way. I’ll give the place an inspection. You stay here.”

“Damn it, Kaia. You better—umph.” Something hard wrapped around his ankles and jerked, sliding him backward. He twisted midway, sitting up despite his momentum, and shoved.

There was a pained, feminine grunt as his assailant stumbled and he was released.

Win, Defeat suddenly said, speaking up for the first time since they’d left the motel.

Did. For the moment, at least. Female warriors surrounded him, glaring down at him. Each held some type of weapon, from machetes to axes to Neolithic daggers.

Well, well. Slowly he stood, palms up and out, all innocence—all lie. “Evening, ladies. Something we can do for you?”

Kaia settled into a crouch and squawked. A squawk he recognized. Her Harpy had just taken over. From the thought of him being injured? Or because another woman had put her hands on him? Either way, she was seeing the world through a haze of red and black, a need for blood thickening her tongue.

“Mine,” she said in a low, dual-layered voice. That was the only warning she gave before she attacked.

As she twirled that bat with a grace and purpose that astonished him, Defeat gave a whimper rather than another demand for victory. She moved like a dancer. A lethal, psychotic dancer who hoped to spend the rest of her life in prison. My kinda woman. Metal slammed against bone, the latter crackling. More grunts, a few groans.

And then the battle was really on.

He caught a glimpse of Kaia’s expression as she spun. Cold, merciless. Red flickers joined the black in her eyes. Like flames. True, crackling flames. He could feel their heat, causing sweat to bead over his skin. An azure glow even emanated from her skin. Not a Harpy glow, with those lovely rainbow shards trapped beneath the surface, but the hottest lick of fire.

He remembered their kiss—again—and the way she’d burned him, how hot she’d been. A living furnace. It had turned him on, made him feel on top of his game. Now he wondered…

Was she exhibiting some sort of power?

Her claws slashed and her teeth cut. Bodies moved so quickly around her, his gaze couldn’t quite track them, but every few seconds Kaia would be thrown backward, as if someone had slammed into her. A heartbeat later, that someone would howl in pain—because they’d been burned?

Win, Defeat growled, fear momentarily forgotten.

Great. Give me a minute. There were a few things he needed to figure out. Namely, how to insert himself into the fray without running into Kaia’s fists.

Win!

The answer slid into place. Strider withdrew Jose, his Sig Sauer, from the waist of his pants. He’d come prepared, too, knowing he’d have to take out anyone who got in his way. Now, he just wanted to murder anyone who tried to “hobble” Kaia. That’s what friends did for each other.

He fired a single shot into the air. Boom. Gasps, the rustle of clothing, the stomp of boots. Then, silence.

“Back the hell up,” he snarled, lowering his aim. “Now. And before you start wondering if I have the balls to splatter your brains across the trees, let me put your minds at ease. I do.”

Kaia stilled, panting and blood-splattered. The women quickly backed away from her. As fast as these winged stunners could move, they could have charged him, attempted to kill him. They didn’t. Either they realized he’d take a few of them out before they managed to reach him, as promised, or they feared his demon.

Defeat hummed his approval, tiny sparks of pleasure warming Strider’s chest. More sparks than usual, considering he hadn’t exactly won yet. Then Strider recalled the very first challenge his demon had accepted regarding Kaia and these women.

Anyone who tried to hurt her had to suffer. Nice.

“You,” he said to Kaia. “Come closer.”

She, too, obeyed. He brushed his free hand down her arm, a caress meant to calm, to comfort. But, shit! Touching her was like touching melted steel. Blisters immediately formed on the pads of his fingers. Did he care? Hardly. What was a little pain when her well-being was at stake?

Eventually the raspy fury of her breathing decreased and the black faded from her eyes, the flickering flames dying. Her skin cooled.

“First-class work out there, baby doll,” he said.

“Anytime, sugar muffin.” Though the words were raw and ragged, she spoke with only one vocal inflection. Her Harpy had been contained.

He shifted his gaze. He and Kaia were still surrounded, but now the circle had grown even wider and he could make out individual features. Harpy after Harpy scowled at him. Dread poured through him as he moved in front of Kaia. His protectiveness probably bothered her, but he wasn’t going to let her take the lead in this. These were her people, and as her sister Gwen had once proven, family had a hard time killing family.

Strider never had a hard time killing anyone. Call it a gift.

Kaia moved to his side and threw the baton at…her mother’s feet. He wanted to curse.

“Hello, Tabitha,” she said evenly.

The dark-haired beauty stepped forward, her expression blank as she pondered him rather than her daughter. “Put the gun away, demon. For all your crowing, we all know you won’t use it.”

Kaia moaned. “You shouldn’t have said that.”

Grinning pleasantly, Strider angled the line of the barrel and squeezed the trigger. Boom. A high-pitched, disbelieving scream. He’d nailed the Harpy beside her. Blood spurted from a gaping thigh wound. The now-injured female hopped up and down before her strength drained and she fell to the ground.

Win! Defeat giggled like a schoolgirl.

More sparks of pleasure erupted in his chest as he notched a brow. “You were saying?”

Tabitha peered at Kaia and cursed, then switched her attention to her trembling clanswoman and shrugged. “You merely grazed her, missing everything of importance.”

“Did I? Well, then, let me try again.” Once more he squeezed the trigger. This time, the bullet grazed Tabitha’s thigh. She wore ankle-length black pants, and the material concealed the evidence of what he’d done. Nothing could hide the coppery tang saturating the air, however.

A slight baring of her pearly whites was the only indication she gave that she’d been hit.

“Oh, damn,” he said. “Missed everything of importance again. I might have to keep practicing. Who’s next?”

Gasps of outrage abounded.

Tabitha held up her hand for silence. Even the night birds obeyed, their chirps evaporating like mist. “Of course it would be you who fell for the old campfire trick,” she said to Kaia. “I’m not surprised.”

“That makes two of us. You fell for the old your-enemy-has-fallen-for-the-old-campfire-trick trick.” She settled two fingers in her mouth and whistled, loud and high-pitched.

Suddenly leaves rattled above him. He watched, wide-eyed, as Sabin, Lysander, Taliyah, Bianka, the Harpy called Neeka and several other females he didn’t recognize revealed themselves. They were high up in the trees, arrows notched and pointed at the competition.

Defeat started humming again.

What are you so happy about? They’d been there all this time and he hadn’t known. They could have slaughtered him before he’d even realized he was under attack. And he’d thought himself so skilled, so…undefeatable. Well, there was no need for any ego checks today. He more than sucked. He blew chunks.

No reason to blame himself, though. Kaia and her Booty Camp had ruined his concentration.

“This is a first,” Tabitha gritted out. Murmurs of admiration circled her, mixed with a few snorts of disbelief and several gasps of fury. “Now I am surprised.”

“How?” His jagged tone matched her mother’s.

Kaia didn’t pretend to misunderstand. “I texted them before we left the motel.”

Good thinking, but he hadn’t known that, either, which meant he more than blew chunks. “And you couldn’t have clued me in?”

“No.” So simply stated, as if the thought had never entered her mind. “So, Mother Dearest,” she said, tuning him out. “Are you regretting your choice to cut your daughters from your team?”

“No,” Tabitha said, as flatly as Kaia had and with no hesitation.

Ouch. Kaia stiffened, but only for a moment. He didn’t dare glance over at her, didn’t dare wrap his arm around her waist and offer any more comfort. Now wasn’t the time. But later…yeah, later, despite his raging bodily needs and the danger to his self-control. Comforting her was part of his consort duties, and for the next four weeks, he was her consort. In all the ways that mattered.

Sex didn’t matter.

At least, that’s what he was going to tell himself. Over and over again, until he believed it. Or until a backlog of semen poisoned and killed him. He could plan to sneak off and indulge in a few one-night stands, he supposed, but he knew he wouldn’t. And not just because Kaia would permanently maim any females he so much as flirted with, but because, well, he didn’t want anyone else.

He’d tasted Kaia’s sweetness, had felt the wickedness of her curves pressed against him, and knew no mortal woman could compare. But he’d get over this infatuation, of that he had no doubt. Even Haidee hadn’t held his attention for long.

Haidee. Huh. He hadn’t thought about her much today, though she had consumed his brain for weeks. Classic Strider. Over the centuries, he’d been a major contender for the World’s Shortest Attention Span.

“Do you truly think you can win the games?” Tabitha asked Kaia.

“Yes.”

“Against me?”

“I hate to repeat myself, but yes.”

That’s my girl. Well, his girl for now.

“Juliette might have won the last eight games, but that’s because I wasn’t allowed to fight. As you know, I’ve never lost,” Tabitha said, stroking the medallion that hung from her neck.

Again, Kaia stiffened, a wave of hurt blasting from her. A wave quickly suppressed. Did the necklace hold some significance? He made a mental note to ask Gwen, as he was certain Kaia wouldn’t give him a straight answer. She never did.

“There’s a reason you’ve never lost. You’ve never fought me,” Kaia replied haughtily.

She is going to be killed.

The feminine voice stampeded through his head. Tabitha’s voice. The same voice he’d heard during orientation. Her attention hadn’t transferred to him, but he knew. “Like hell,” he muttered.

Kaia threw him a disbelieving, offended look. “It’s true.”

“I know that, baby doll. Wasn’t talking to you.”

“Oh. Well. Okay.”

Win! There was a tremor in Defeat’s tone, but still, the little bastard wasn’t going to back down. They’d decided to aid Kaia, and they would. She would not be killed.

She is going to be killed—and there is nothing you can do to help her.

“Stop it,” he commanded, gaze narrowing on the woman responsible.

Tabitha blinked innocently. “Why is your consort speaking to me without my having addressed him first?” she asked Kaia. “Have you not taught him the proper order of things?”

So the little man wasn’t supposed to speak to the women folk without an invitation? Screw that. “Just stay out of my head, Harpy, or I’ll make sure you regret it. By the way, how’s the leg?”

She hissed at him.

Win!

I know, Strider reassured the demon. I told you. I won’t let anything happen to Kaia.

Kaia blinked, too, only she appeared shocked. She didn’t question her mother, though, and he wondered if she remained quiet because she knew her mother wouldn’t answer or because questioning her mother would have revealed ignorance and ignorance would have been perceived as weakness.

Harpies, man. Life seemed to be one big chess match for them. Ridiculous, if you asked him. And yeah, he got the irony. But he had to turn everything he did into a contest of wits and might. They didn’t, nor did they suffer afterward. They just did it for funsies.

“Don’t concern yourself with my man,” Kaia finally said, her chin lifting.

My man. He kinda liked the sound of that.

His jaw clenched. This was pretend and he couldn’t let himself confuse pretend with reality.

“I’m surprised you won a fearsome Lord of the Underworld,” Tabitha said.

“I’m not,” Kaia replied with a shrug. “I’m pretty much made of awesome.”

Still not a flicker of emotion crossed Tabitha’s face. Not pride, nor disappointment. “I guess we’ll find out exactly what you’re made of tomorrow, when the games truly begin.”

CHAPTER TEN

PARIS, THE KEEPER OF Promiscuity—or Sex, as Paris called the demon—clutched two standard-issue daggers as he slinked through the back-alley shadows. Standard issue sucked. Sure, they sliced and diced just fine, but up here, with gods, goddesses, vampires and fallen angels, slicing and dicing wasn’t enough.

Whatever. Keep going.

Never ceased to amaze him how similar the immortal world was to the human one. In this heavenly metropolis, there were bars, shops, restaurants and hotels. Not to mention drugs and those who sold them. Whatever you wanted, you could get.

Date: 2015-12-18; view: 528