Chapter Twelve

CHAPTER TWELVE

Taylor

Ultimately, Lowenstein gripes and grumbles, but he lets us inside. We're not hungry but he seems to be, moving about, preparing something.

His place is just as messy as before, and I would prefer to sleep outside in the crisp, cold air. This place is making me feel claustrophobic.

"So," he sits down on the ground and I look around. 

"What happened to your table and chairs?"

"Got rid of them," he comments offhandedly. "They were getting in the way."

In the way of what?

However, I hold my tongue, glancing at Isabel. We have more important matters to deal with first. 

"What do you mean there's a seal on Isabel?" I demand. 

Lowenstein slurps whatever hideous concoction he just prepared, and when he sits down the wooden bowl on the floor, I see that the remnants are a green color. I shudder.

"She's a half-breed," Lowenstein says, bluntly. 

"Wait, what?" 

Isabel looks like she's ready to pass out, "I'm a - I'm what she is!"