‘If you want to test that theory, be my guest,’ Eugenia said, a confident smirk returning to her face. ‘Down at the pub, one of the locals took ... shine to me, and it just so turns out his name is Mr. Ralph E. Edgecombe. Ever heard of him?’ ‘No,’ Betty said, unconvincingly. The truth was that she had heard of him, but she wished she hadn’t—he was a journalist infamous for his eviscerating, defamatory articles. Although considered yellow by some, she knew his influence on the street remained. I scanned for her children since I had been in touch, again nothing. Then it struck me, her knife. Scanning for that I quickly found it in the room next to mine. I knocked on the door and heard "Enter".I went in and saw an old lady. The knife was at her waist and she lay on the bed. Her aura showed she was dying. I went to her and knelt beside the bed. "My name is George. You carry the blade of Lokhoni, so you must be her descendant." Yes I am her great, great, great grand-daughter. The only. More

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