Lost World of the Wends (29)

Boris leaned back and rested his head in laced hands. ‘Ah, Martin Luther, I remember him. I dropped in on him while he slept. He woke up and told me to go away. The cheek of the monk.’ Smug. Very smug. He seemed to take the brooding weather and chaos in his stride as if he were born to exist in such an environment.
He’s the devil incarnate, Hans thought.

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Lost World of the Wends (28)

‘Oh, that’s taking things a bit too far—and remember, I’m the authority around here. No, I don’t believe you. They were hiding—you, Herr Biar were hiding them all this time. You—will—pay.’
Boris drew his hand as a gun. Blinding light flashed. The lamp beside Amie disintegrated.

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