Chapter Thirteen
South Bronx, New York
“When the parallel lines of your heart and spirit come together, you will no longer cast a shadow on this rock of human b*****e called Earth.”
The speaker paused to gaze around the poorly lighted room. As her narrowed eyes swept the roomful of malcontents, social misfits, and other human debris, she occasionally hesitated to hold a man with her piercing stare.
Angelgrace Casperian, thirty-eight years old, barely five feet tall, skinny and gaunt, reminiscent of a concentration camp survivor. But her voice was deep and mellow, like a cathedral bell at sunset. Her black hair hung in dreads and random braids, dropping to the middle of her back and over her eyes. Pale and sallow, she appeared sickly, but her Pacific eyes flashed with fire and hatred.
