There Is No Devil Sinners Duet Book 2 By Sophie Lark-pdfread

themselves have shrunk down to child-size.
I painted at a speed I never could have imagined when I had to squeeze in my
art between endless work shifts, already exhausted by the time I lifted brush
to canvas.
Some of the paintings are realistic, others include surreal elements.
One is called The Two Maras, a reference to Frida Kahlo’s famous portrait.
In mine, the first version of Mara stands before a large mirror. The “real”
Mara is battered and bruised, with a wide-eyed expression of fear. Her
reflection in the mirror looks ten years older: glossy-haired and dressed in a
diaphanous black gown, her eyes dark and ferocious, her entire aura crackling
with the terrible power of a sorceress.
I called the painting of the girl in the nightgown The Burial, as Cole
suggested.
The next one along is the same girl in the same nightgown, sitting barefoot on
a bus, her feet filthy and scratched, her head leaning exhausted against the
window.
All the adults gaze blindly in her direction, their blank faces nothing but a
smear of paint. Mind Your Business, the title card reads.
Seeing all my paintings together, properly hung and lighted, is the most
thrilling thing I’ve ever experienced.
I’m looking into the window of my own future—a dream I had hoped for
desperately, but only ever half-believed.
Here it is now in front of me, and I still can’t believe it.
“How do you feel?” Cole asks me.
“Drunk—and I haven’t had a sip of champagne.”
This time as Cole and I make the rounds, I’m starting to remember people’s
names and faces, and they’re starting to remember me. I almost feel
comfortable chatting with Jack Brisk, who has forgotten that he ever dumped
a drink on my dress and is asking if I’d be interested in showing at his