“Sting a little! I hate you,” Fate-Pebble said. “You’re alive, aren’t you?” “Undead. And I’m telling my father how painful that was.” She turned and stomped to the waiting SUV, slamming the door behind her. Jet went and sat outside the car door. Silva laughed. “She knows how to throw quite the tantrum, doesn’t she, sir?” Tarrick stood, brushing sand off his suit and from his hair. “She’s a child.”
