The ways I could hurt her and hurt myself. Those two things were intertwined somehow. It's hard to explain, but when you were as closed off as I was the past few months, opening felt as wrong as stripping naked in church.

The way she told it, she was such a criminal even the most God-fearing church ladies got bored of reporting on her; she did the marketing on Sunday, dropped by any church she liked or none at all, was a feminist (which Mrs. Asher sometimes confused with communist), a Democrat (which Mrs. Lincoln pointed out practically had "demon" in the word itself), and, worst of all, a vegetarian (which ruled out any dinner invitations from Mrs. Snow).

She had the power to destroy. I had only seen the power to love. When you discovered both, who could figure out what to do with that?

The Sisters were Southern Baptist, and they went to church on Saturdays and Sundays, and most other days, too.

A vegetarian? Are you insane? That's worse than bein' a quarter demon!

Jewelry, I'm telling you. It's a thing. And love. And maybe danger.

Got it. Demon. Death. Doom.