Warm Up (Villains, #0.5)

by V.E. Schwab

Some people forget, he thought. A bad thing happens to them and their mind sweeps in and buries the bad thing deep, and all that’s left is a stretch of white in

their heads, like fresh snow. Looking at it—at them—you wouldn’t even know anything was trapped beneath.

He could see a life from here. Not his life, that was gone, but a life.

“The son of man,” he said softly, bringing his hand to the wood, “shall send forth his angels, and they shall gather out of his kingdom all that offend.” His hand fell away from the door. “And cast them into a furnace of fire.”