Clarke shuffled me out into the waiting car and drove me to the mansion to have the doctor look me over. I had enough contusions for a high school football team in a championship game and at least two cracked ribs and what would probably be a nice shiner in the morning, but other than broken I wasn't busted. Santana then grilled me for a half hour before sending me home.
Yeah, I'm liking this chapter. The action is pretty good. The words are fun. Good way to start into Act III.
I continued to haul back on the sword hilt like a mad rower attempting to leap his scull up a waterfall salmon style. I forced both of our cars over the median which jostled Maxwell enough he stopped firing wildly. An oncoming tractor-trailer took out the gun car in a flurry of jakebreaking and airhorn.
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