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A Beautiful Evil Epub

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I've got things to do. I waited, tensely, for him to question my decision. I'd tell him if it came to it, but my time in the painting studio had been my private time up to now,,, "Okay.

Lost and Found by Lexi Blake

It was remarkable to watch everyone instinctively move aside for him. And it wasn't because of his rakish good looks. Although that helped. Kellan, Giuseppa, and Vespar were all tall with the blond good looks they inherited from our mother.

Not me. I stood a couple of inches below them with black as night hair that teased just below my shoulder blades. Giuseppa had a long mane of golden tendrils. They were just wavy enough to give her a whole goddess look. Not my hair. It was straight black, but it seemed to sparkle underneath the right light. Kellan always said that it seemed to lure the guys. It seemed to have lured Matt Rettley in, but Kellan was right.

I hadn't met a guy that I couldn't handle. It was just if I chose to handle them or not. It drove Kellan crazy.

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Not Vespar. He just sniffed and marched the other way. Secretly, I wondered if Vespar was a little jealous of my closeness with Kellan. But then again, Vespar and Giuseppa had formed their own clique.

That was us, the Bradens.

Gorgeous, mysterious, and a little dysfunctional. And as I turned to head toward the art studio, I wasn't immune to how the same students moved for me, too.

Ullen, smiled as she swept open the door. I stepped inside and took in the new paintings that decorated the art room. Whose are they? I recognized a few handiworks. Some were roughly outlined while others were given a detailed swoosh of the hand. The paintings were of animals, sports, and even balloons.

I perused each of them as Mrs. Ullen waited in silence. She walked beside me, her arms crossed over her chest, wearing a billowy dress that dwarfed her tiny frame. I paused at the end of the room when I saw a handful of paintings hung. Each of them was bold, dark, and encased a chilling image of a demon.

Each black form had two red eyes that sent shivers down my spine. I almost felt the fire that was reflected from the demon's hell. And the very last one took my breath away. It was the same demon, but this time a slight slant had been given to the eyes so that it looked,,, My eyes widened as I realized the implication.

I turned sharply and rasped out, "Who did these? Ullen's smile never faltered, but I caught the slight tensing around her eyes. She swept a hand toward the graying bun her hair was loosely pulled into, and she mused, "You don't like them? That wasn't my issue. I demanded, "Who did these? Who did this one specifically? Ullen didn't need to look.

She knew which one I meant. I hung these two weeks ago. It's been a while since your last visit here. I painted. And I knew there was a reason why Mrs. Ullen wanted me to study the paintings. I don't understand,,," And then her eyes caught and held on the last painting.

I saw the realization before I heard the swift intake of breath. I want it taken down, and I want to know who painted it. I'd like you to keep selling my portraits in your store, but I really don't want that painting hung on the wall. And I really want to know who the artist is. Ullen looked flabbergasted. And no wonder. I usually came into the art room, perused through the pieces she displayed that week, and then quietly went into the studio room that was kept locked. Ullen had taken note of my talent early in elementary school.

She had proclaimed my doodles as masterpieces and then introduced me to a blank painting canvas. The relationship had been cemented that day. I painted whenever I wanted, and she sold them in her private store. No one knew except the two of us.

A beautiful evil

It was respected by both, but this was the first time I'd spoken against my collaborator. I didn't even notice-but then again, you always see what I cannot. I'm sure the artist didn't intend anything by the painting. It's a total and accidental coincidence. I'm sure of this, Shay.

I'm so sure of this. Of course, I'll take the painting down. I know how close you are with your brother. I didn't care if it was accidental or not. Something fierce and angry burned inside of me at the idea of a demonic portrait of Kellan,,,though it may be true at times. It's down. I'll keep it behind the desk covered until he arrives for his paintings again.

I'm so sorry again, Shay honey. I'm sure your brother isn't even,,," But her voice trailed off when our eyes met. Everyone knew Kellan's reputation, and it wasn't an angelic one. Did you come in to paint this evening?

You know how to leave the school if you stay late. And with that, I'll leave you alone. When I heard her approach, I quickly moved to the second door and timed it so that I exited the room as she re-entered. And then I was in the empty hallway, still shaken, but the tingle urged me ahead. It was stronger than it had ever been before, and I quickly moved to the studio door.

I swished through and breathed in freedom as it locked shut behind me. That was when I turned to survey the room. Three empty canvases were perched on easels. I forgot everything else. It never ceased to amaze me how the world went away when I painted.

It was like everything clicked off the second my hand picked up that brush. And then I'd blink awake, maybe four hours later, and stare, befuddled, at a finished product. This time wasn't anything different. I caught my breath as I stared at my handiwork. The general background was a brown color, almost sand-like. There was a mass of clouds, a beautiful storm that looked like it had just started, and three angels that hung in the air, mesmerizing. They seemed to pierce through me as I stared at each of them.

Their wings were folded in, white with long feathers, and their robes sparkled from some unseen light. I didn't know what prompted this painting out of me. And to be honest, I never understood why I painted what I did, but this one took my breath away.

It was like someone else had used me to paint it. I didn't feel like I could take credit, but it didn't matter.

Fantasy Genre - Page #1

I bent and pulled the masking cover over it. I made sure each of the prominent tacks was pointed out so that the cover wouldn't rest on the painting, just around it.

And then I glanced at the clock. Five after nine. I'd been painting for longer than four hours. Cursing underneath my breath, I grabbed my bag and left through the door. It would automatically lock behind me, so I didn't give it a thought.

As I hurried down the far east corridor and descended the back stairwell, I hoped like I always did that the alarm wouldn't sound when I pushed on the exit doors. They never had, but it only took one time. As I pushed through, I breathed in relief when no alarm splintered the air. I was safe,,,once again. The air was chilled, like it should've been on an early summer night. It didn't help that I hadn't gone to school with a sweater or jacket.

I tried to warm my arms, but it never worked. I was still trembling when I got to my car. As I blasted the heat, I sat back and pulled out my cell phone. Two missed calls from Kellan and four text messages from Matt.

The first one read, ya beatch, ur gonna pay for ur bruda be back 2morrow dun worry.

The second one wasn't much different, and the last two promised payback. I rolled my eyes and shifted the car into gear. As I drove through the backstreets of Poehler and headed out of town, I saw Leah and a few others leaving one of the pizza places, like a normal teenager enjoying time with her friends.

I'd never been a part of that world. None of the Bradens had. And for some reason, it never bothered us. We were meant for different things. All rights reserved. This demonstrates both the power of the tools and approach. It also moves ePub3 from just books to more marketing collateral. Updated on It also moves ePub3 from just books to marketing collateral. Who knows on the next one we may introduce some interactivity. Siegfried Sassoon is a significant and famous war poet from the Great War.

War poet was a description he did not particularly like.

As an officer in World War I, he was wounded and lauded twice with medals for bravery. His poetry—at times violent, always truthful—used forceful, realistic verse to express his conviction of the stupid brutality and waste of war. We have produced Siegfried's poems here in ePub3 fixed layout and reflowable formats to give everyone on any device the opportunity to read this amazing poetry.

It is also available in PDF formats from the blog post here. Optimized for monitors or devices. Read the release blog post. This is a technical demonstration of each of the interactive and widget options available. It will work on ePub3 Fixed layout capable Reading systems that allow embedded Javascript. Is it an interactive story?

Just the book to keep your children amused for hours.