Nicola Fitzsimmons

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Ines opened the lid of the canister. Inside it were the gray ashes, and on top of them, something yellow and bright. A paper crane. Mrs. Summers spotted it first. And started to laugh. They all laughed, then, not because it was funny but because it wasn’t, because laughter was a full-body hiccup, wild and strange, and death was wild and strange, too.
Nicola Fitzsimmons
He is magic too
Chosen Ones (The Chosen Ones, #1)
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