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The Tyrant's Tomb

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“Kill it!” I yelled at Meg.

“Swerve!” she countered.

One of the many annoying things about being incarcerated in my puny

mortal body: I was Meg McCaffrey’s servant. I was bound to obey her direct

commands. So when she yelled “Swerve,” I yanked the steering wheel hard

to the right. The hearse handled beautifully. It careened across three lanes of

traffic, barreled straight through the guardrail, and plummeted into the

canyon below.

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