Blood Test (Alex Delaware Series #2)

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It is a case unlike any psychologist Dr. Alex Delaware has ever encountered. Five-year-old Woody Swope is ill, but the real problem is his parents. They refuse to agree to the one treatment that could save this boy's life.
Alex sets out to convince Mr. and Mrs. Swope--only to find that the parents have left the hospital and taken their son with them. Worse, the sleazy motel room where the Swopes were staying is empty--except for the ominous ...
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New York, NY 2003 Mass-market paperback Fair. Save a book! Readable condition, lots of creases and wear. Mass market (rack) paperback. Glued binding. 320 p. Alex Delaware Novels.

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Blood Test (Alex Delaware Series #2)

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Overview

It is a case unlike any psychologist Dr. Alex Delaware has ever encountered. Five-year-old Woody Swope is ill, but the real problem is his parents. They refuse to agree to the one treatment that could save this boy's life.
Alex sets out to convince Mr. and Mrs. Swope--only to find that the parents have left the hospital and taken their son with them. Worse, the sleazy motel room where the Swopes were staying is empty--except for the ominous bloodstain. The Swopes and their son have vanished into the sordid shadows of the city.
Now Alex and his friend, homocide detective Milo Sturgis, have no choice but to push the law to the breaking point. They've entered an amoral underworld where drugs, dreams, and sex are all for sale...where fantasies are fulfilled at any price--even at the cost of a young boy's life.

Author Biography:

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Editorial Reviews

Publishers Weekly - Publisher's Weekly
Dr. Alexander Davenport, a child psychologist in Los Angeles, is called in to evaluate the case of a leukemia patient whose parents want to discontinue chemotherapy. When the boy disappears from the hospital and his parents are found dead, the only leads are the boy's sensual older sister and a holistic-meditative cult called The Touch. Davenport's search for the child takes him to a small town near the Mexican border where he finally unearths the dark secrets kept by the boy's family and the townspeople. He also uncovers drugs and group sex in the commune and survives a few harrowing attempts on his life. (Particularly well-drawn is a failed assassination at the tale's end, which has intriguing mythic echoes.) As in his praised first novel, When the Bough Breaks, Kellerman draws on his experience as a clinical psychologist to enrich and broaden his considerable storytelling talents. Imbued with a vivid sense of place and featuring a strong supporting cast, including Milo Sturgis, Davenport's burly gay detective friend, this second adventure points happily toward an Alex Davenport series. Paperback rights to NAL. (March)
From the Publisher
“Why is it so hard to put down a Kellerman thriller . . .? It’s simple: the nonstop action leaves you breathless; the plot twists keep you guessing; the themes . . . are provocative.”—Publishers Weekly
 
“An original and gripping tale that is one of his best.”—Chicago Tribune
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Product Details

  • ISBN-13: 9780345466617
  • Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
  • Publication date: 11/4/2003
  • Series: Alex Delaware Series , #2
  • Format: Mass Market Paperback
  • Edition description: Reprint
  • Pages: 320
  • Product dimensions: 4.17 (w) x 6.86 (h) x 0.86 (d)

Meet the Author

Jonathan Kellerman

Jonathan Kellerman is one of the world’s most popular authors. He has brought his expertise as a clinical psychologist to more than thirty bestselling crime novels, including the Alex Delaware series, The Butcher’s Theater, Billy Straight, The Conspiracy Club, Twisted, and True Detectives. With his wife, the novelist Faye Kellerman, he co-authored the bestsellers Double Homicide and Capital Crimes. He is the author of numerous essays, short stories, scientific articles, two children’s books, and three volumes of psychology, including Savage Spawn: Reflections on Violent Children, as well as the lavishly illustrated With Strings Attached: The Art and Beauty of Vintage Guitars. He has won the Goldwyn, Edgar, and Anthony awards and has been nominated for a Shamus Award. Jonathan and Faye Kellerman live in California, New Mexico, and New York. Their four children include the novelists Jesse Kellerman and Aliza Kellerman.

Biography

"I like to say that as a psychologist I was concerned with the rules of human behavior," Jonathan Kellerman has said. "As a novelist, I'm concerned with the exceptions." Both roles are evident in Kellerman's string of bestselling psychological thrillers, in which he probes the hidden corners of the human psyche with a clinician's expertise and a novelist's dark imagination.

Kellerman worked for years as a child psychologist, but his first love was writing, which he started doing at the age of nine. After reading Ross MacDonald's Lew Archer novels, however, Kellerman found his voice as a writer -- and his calling as a suspense novelist. His first published novel, When the Bough Breaks, featured a child psychologist, Dr. Alex Delaware, who helps solve a murder case in which the only apparent witness is a traumatized seven-year-old girl. The book was an instant hit; as New York's Newsday raved, "[T]his knockout of an entertainment is the kind of book which establishes a career in one stroke."

Kellerman has since written a slew more Alex Delaware thrillers; not surprisingly, the series hero shares much of Kellerman's own background. The books often center on problems of family psychopathology—something Kellerman had ample chance to observe in his day job. The Delaware novels have also chronicled the shifting social and cultural landscape of Los Angeles, where Kellerman lives with his wife (who is also a health care practitioner-turned-novelist) and their four children.

A prolific author who averages one book a year, Kellerman dislikes the suggestion that he simply cranks them out. He has a disciplined work schedule, and sits down to write in his office five days a week, whether he feels "inspired" or not. "I sit down and start typing. I think it's important to deromanticize the process and not to get puffed up about one's abilities," he said in a 1998 chat on Barnes & Noble.com. "Writing fiction's the greatest job in the world, but it's still a job. All the successful novelists I know share two qualities: talent and a good work ethic."

And he does plenty of research, drawing on medical databases and current journals as well as his own experience as a practicing psychologist. Then there are the field trips: before writing Monster, Kellerman spent time at a state hospital for the criminally insane.

Kellerman has taken periodic breaks from his Alex Delaware series to produce highly successful stand-alone novels that he claims have helped him to gain some needed distance from the series characters. It's a testament to Kellerman's storytelling powers that the series books and the stand-alones have both gone over well with readers; clearly, Kellerman's appeal lies more in his dexterity than in his reliance on a formula. "Often mystery writers can either plot like devils or create believable characters," wrote one USA Today reviewer. "Kellerman stands out because he can do both. Masterfully."

Good To Know

Some outtakes from our interview with Jonathan Kellerman:
"I am the proud husband of a brilliant novelist, Faye Kellerman. I am the proud father of a brilliant novelist, Jesse Kellerman. And three lovely, gifted daughters, one of whom, Aliza, may turn out to be one of the greatest novelists/poets of this century. "

"My first job was selling newspapers on a corner, age 12. Then I delivered liquor, age 16 -- the most engaging part of that gig was schlepping cartons of bottles up stairways in building without elevators. Adding insult to injury, tips generally ranged from a dime to a quarter. And, I was too young to sample the wares. Subsequent jobs included guitar teacher, freelance musician, newspaper cartoonist, Sunday School teacher, youth leader, research/teaching assistant. All of that simplified when I was 24 and earned a Ph.D. in psychology. Another great job. Then novelist? Oh, my, an embarrassment of riches. Thank you, thank you, thank you, kind readers. I'm the luckiest guy in the world.

"I paint, I play the guitar, I like to hang out with intelligent people whose thought processes aren't by stereotype, punditry, political correctness, etc. But enough about me. The important thing is The Book."

More fun facts:
After Kellerman called his literary agent to say that his wife, Faye, had written a novel, the agent reluctantly agreed to take a look ("Later, he told me his eyes rolled all the way back in his head," Kellerman said in an online chat). Two weeks later, a publisher snapped up Faye Kellerman's first book, The Ritual Bath. Faye Kellerman has since written many more mysteries featuring L.A. cop Peter Decker and his wife Rina Lazarus, including the bestsellers Justice and Jupiter's Bones.

When Kellerman wrote When the Bough Breaks in 1981, crime novels featuring gay characters were nearly nonexistent, so Alex Delaware's gay detective friend, Milo Sturgis, was a rarity. Kellerman admits it can be difficult for a straight writer to portray a gay character, but says the feedback he's gotten from readers -- gay and straight -- has been mostly positive.

In his spare time, Kellerman is a musician who collects vintage guitars. He once placed the winning online auction bid for a guitar signed by Don Henley and his bandmates from the Eagles; proceeds from the sale were donated to the Jewish Federation of Greater Dallas.

In addition to his novels, Kellerman has written two children's books and three nonfiction books, including Savage Spawn, about the backgrounds and behaviors of child psychopaths.

But for a 1986 television adaptation of When the Bough Breaks, none of Kellerman's work has yet made it to screen. "I wish I could say that Hollywood's beating a path to my door," he said in a Barnes & Noble.com chat in 1998, "but the powers-that-be at the studios don't seem to feel that my books lend themselves to film adaptation. The most frequent problem cited is too much complexity."

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    1. Hometown:
      Beverly Hills, California
    1. Date of Birth:
      August 9, 1949
    2. Place of Birth:
      New York, New York
    1. Education:
      B.A. in psychology, University of California-Los Angeles; Ph.D., University of Southern California, 1974
    2. Website:

Read an Excerpt

CHAPTER

1

Isat in the courtroom and watched Richard Moody get the bad news from the judge.

Moody’d come dressed for the occasion in a chocolate polyester suit, canary yellow shirt, string tie, and lizard skin boots. He grimaced and bit his lip and tried to lock eyes with the judge, but she outstared him and he ended up looking at his hands. The bailiff at the rear of the room held his gaze on Moody. As a result of my warning he’d been careful to keep the Moodys apart all afternoon and had gone so far as to frisk Richard.

The judge was Diane Severe, girlish for fifty, with ash blond hair and a strong, kind face; soft-spoken, and all business. I’d never been in her court but knew her reputation. She’d been a social worker before going to law school and after a decade in juvenile court and six years on the family bench was one of the few judges who really understood children.

“Mr. Moody,” she said, “I want you to listen very carefully to what I’m going to say.”

Moody started to assume an aggressive body posture, hunching his shoulders and narrowing his eyes like a bar fighter, but his attorney nudged him and he loosened up and forced a smile.

“I’ve heard testimony from Dr. Daschoff and Dr. Delaware, both eminently qualified as experts in this court. I’ve spoken to your children in my chambers. I’ve watched your behavior this afternoon and I’ve heard your allegations against Mrs. Moody. I’ve learned of your instructions to your children to run away from their mother so that you could rescue them.”

She paused and leaned forward.

“You’ve got serious emotional problems, sir.”

The smirk on Moody’s face vanished as quickly as it appeared, but she caught it.

“I’m sorry you think this is funny, Mr. Moody, because it’s tragic.”

“Your Honor,” Moody’s lawyer interjected.

She cut him off with the flick of a gold pen.

“Not now, Mr. Durkin. I’ve heard quite enough wordplay today. This is the bottom line and I want your client to pay attention.”

Turning back to Moody:

“Your problems may be treatable. I sincerely hope they are. There’s no doubt in my mind that psychotherapy is essential—a good deal of it. Medication may be called for as well. For your sake and the sake of your children I hope you get whatever treatment you need. My order is that you have no further contact with your children until I see psychiatric evidence that you are no longer a threat to yourself or to others—when the death threats and talk of suicide cease, and you have accepted the reality of this divorce and are able to support Mrs. Moody in the raising of the children.

“Should you get to that point—and your word won’t be sufficient to convince me, Mr. Moody—the court will call upon Dr. Delaware to set up a schedule of limited and monitored visitation.”

Moody took it in, then made a sudden move forward. The bailiff was out of his chair and at his side in a flash. Moody saw him, gave a sick grin, and let his body go slack. The tears flowed down his cheeks. Durkin pulled out a handkerchief, gave it to him, and raised an objection concerning the judge’s encroachment upon his client’s privacy.

“You’re free to appeal, Mr. Durkin,” she said evenly.

“Judge.”

It was Moody talking now, the bass voice dry and strained.

“What is it, Mr. Moody?”

“You don’t unnerstand.” He wrung his hands. “Those kids, they’re my life.”

For a moment I thought she was going to tongue-lash him. Instead she regarded him with compassion.

“I do understand, sir. I understand that you love your children. That your life is in shambles. But what you need to understand—the whole point of the psychiatric testimony—is that children can’t be responsible for anyone’s life. That’s too big a burden for any child to bear. They can’t raise you, Mr. Moody. You need to be able to raise them. And right now you can’t. You need help.”

Moody started to say something but choked it back. He shook his head in defeat, gave the handkerchief back to Durkin, and tried to salvage a few shards of dignity.

The next quarter hour was spent on property settlement. I had no need to listen to the distribution of the meager estate of Darlene and Richard Moody and would have left, but Mal Worthy had said he wanted to talk to me afterward.

When the legal mumbling was over, Judge Severe took off her glasses and ended the hearing. She looked my way and smiled.

“I’d like to see you in chambers for a moment if you’ve got the time, Dr. Delaware.”

I smiled back and nodded. She swept out of the courtroom.

Durkin ushered Moody out under the watchful eye of the bailiff.

At the next table Mal was pep-talking Darlene, patting her plump shoulder as he scooped up handfuls of documents and stashed them in one of the two suitcases he’d brought. Mal was compulsive and while other lawyers made do with an attaché case, he carted around boxes of documents on a chromium luggage rack.

The former Mrs. Richard Moody looked up at him, bewildered, cheeks feverishly rosy, bobbing her head in assent. She’d stuffed her milkmaid’s body into a light blue summer dress as frothy as high tide. The dress was ten years too young for her and I wondered if she’d confused newfound freedom with innocence.

Mal was decked out in classic Beverly Hills attorney mufti: Italian suit, silk shirt and tie, calfskin loafers with tassels. His hair was styled fashionably long and curly, his beard cut close to the skin. He had glossy nails and perfect teeth and a Malibu tan. When he saw me he winked and waved and gave Darlene one last pat. Then he held her hand in both of his and saw her to the door.

“Thanks for your help, Alex,” he said when he came back. Piles of papers remained on the table and he busied himself with packing them.

“It wasn’t fun,” I said.

“No. The ugly ones aren’t.” He meant it but there was a lilt in his voice.

“But you won.”

He stopped shuffling papers for a moment. “Yeah. Well, you know, that’s the business I’m in. Jousting.” He flipped his wrist and looked at a wafer-thin disc of gold. “I won’t say it pains me to dispose of a turkey like Mr. M.”

“You think he’ll take it? Just like that?”

He shrugged.

“Who knows? If he doesn’t we’ll just keep bringing in the heavy artillery.”

At two hundred dollars an hour.

He lashed the suitcases to the rack.

“Hey listen, Alex, this wasn’t a stinker. For those I don’t call you—I’ve got hired guns up the wazoo. This was righteous, no?”

“We were on the right side.”

“Precissimoso. And I thank you again. Regards to the lady judge.”

“What do you think she wants?” I asked.

He grinned and slapped me on the back.

“Maybe she likes your style. Not a bad looking gal, heh? She’s single, you know?”

“Spinster?”

“Hell, no. Divorced. I handled her case.”

Her chambers were done in mahogany and rose, and permeated with the scent of flowers. She sat behind a glass-topped, carved wood desk upon which stood a cut-crystal vase filled with stalks of gladiolus. On the wall behind the desk were several photographs of two hulking blond teenage boys—in football jerseys, wetsuits, and evening wear.

“My gruesome twosome,” she said, following my eyes. “One’s at Stanford, the other’s selling firewood up at Arrowhead. No telling, eh, Doctor?”

“No telling.”

“Please have a seat.” She motioned me to a velvet sofa. When I’d settled she said, “Sorry if I was a little rough on you in there.”

“No problem.”

“I wanted to know if the fact that Mr. Moody wears women’s underwear was relevant to his mental status, and you refused to be pinned down.”

“I didn’t think his choice of lingerie had much to do with custody.”

She laughed. “I get two types of psych experts. The puffed-up, self-proclaimed authorities, so taken with themselves they think their opinions on any topic are sacrosanct, and the cautious ones, like you, who won’t give an opinion unless it’s backed up by a double-blind, controlled study.”

I shrugged. “At least you won’t get a Twinkie Defense out of me.”

“Touché. How about some wine?” She unlatched the doors of a credenza carved to match the desk and took out a bottle and two long-stemmed glasses.

“My pleasure, Your Honor.”

“In here, Diane. Is it Alexander?”

“Alex is fine.”

She poured red wine into the glasses. “This is a very fine cabernet that I save for the termination of particularly obnoxious cases. Positive reinforcement, if you will.”

I took the glass she offered.

“To justice,” she said, and we sipped. It was good wine and I told her so. It seemed to please her.

We drank in silence. She finished before I did and set down her glass.

“I want to talk to you about the Moodys. They’re off my docket but I can’t help thinking about the kids. I read your report and you have good insights on the family.”

“It took a while but they opened up.”

“Alex, are those children going to be all right?”

“I’ve asked myself the same thing. I wish I could tell you yes. It depends on whether or not the parents get their act together.”

She clicked her nails against the rim of the wine-glass.

“Do you think he’ll kill her?”

The question startled me.

“Don’t tell me it didn’t cross your mind—the warning to the bailiff and all that.”

“That was meant to prevent an ugly scene,” I said, “but yes, I do think he could do it. The man’s unstable and profoundly depressed. When he gets low, he gets nasty and he’s never been lower than right now.”

“And he wears ladies’ panties.”

I laughed. “That, too.”

“Refill?”

“Sure.”

She put the bottle aside and laced her fingers around the stem of her wineglass, an angular, attractive older woman, not afraid to let a few wrinkles show.

“A real loser, our Mr. Richard Moody. And maybe a killer.”

“If he gets in a killing mood, she’d be the obvious target. And the boyfriend—Conley.”

“Well,” she said, running the tip of her tongue over her lips, “one must be philosophical about such things. If he kills her it’s because she fucked the wrong guy. Just as long as he doesn’t kill someone innocent, like you or me.”

It was hard to tell if she was serious or not.

“It’s something I think about,” she said, “some warped loser coming back and taking out his troubles on me. The losers never want to take responsibility for their crappy little lives. You ever worry about it?”

“Not really. When I was clinically active most of my patients were nice kids from nice families—not much potential for mayhem there. I’ve been pretty much retired for the last couple of years.”

“I know. I saw the gap in your resumé. All that academic stuff, then blank space. Was that before the Casa de Los Niños thing or after?”

I wasn’t surprised she knew about it. Though it had been over a year, the headlines had been bold and people remembered. I had my own personal reminder—a reconstructed jaw that ached when the weather got clammy.

“A half year before. Afterwards I didn’t exactly feel like jumping back in.”

“No fun being a hero?”

“I don’t even know what the word means.”

“I’ll bet.” She gazed levelly at me and adjusted the hem of her robe. “And now you’re doing forensic work.”

“On a limited basis. I accept consultations from attorneys I trust which narrows the field substantially and I get some directly from judges.”

“Which ones?”

“George Landre, Ralph Siegel.”

“Both good guys. I went to school with George. You want more work?”

“I’m not hustling. If the referrals come, okay. If not, I can always find things to do.”

“Rich kid, huh?”

“Far from it, but I made a few good investments that are still paying off. If I don’t get sucked into a Rodeo Drive mentality I’m okay.”

She smiled.

“If you want more cases, I’ll spread the word. The members of the psych panel are booked up for four months and we’re always looking for guys who can think straight and put it into language simple enough for a judge to understand. Your report was really good.”

“Thanks. If you send me cases I won’t turn you down.”

She finished the second glass. “Very mellow, isn’t it? Comes from a tiny little vineyard up in Napa. Three years old and still operating at a loss, but the place is turning out limited bottlings of very fine reds.”

She got up and walked around the room. From the pocket of her robe she removed a pack of Virginia Slims and a lighter. For the next few moments she stared at a wall decorated with diplomas and certificates and dragged deeply on the cigarette.

“People really manage to fuck up their lives, don’t they? Like Miss Bright Eyes Moody. Nice country girl, moves to L.A. for a taste of excitement, gets a job as a checker at Safeway and falls in love with the macho man in lace undies—I forget, what is he, a construction worker?”

“Carpenter. For Aurora Studios.”

“Right. I remember. Builds sets. The guy’s an obvious loser but it takes her twelve years to figure it out. Now she’s extricating herself and who does she hook up with? The loser’s clone.”

“Conley’s a lot more mentally intact.”

“Maybe so. But take a look at them side by side. Twins. She’s being pulled to the same type. Who knows, maybe Moody was a charmer, too, in the beginning. Give this Conley a few years, he’ll turn. Bunch of losers.”

She turned and faced me. Her nostrils flared and the hand holding the cigarette trembled almost imperceptibly: alcohol, emotion, or both.

“I hooked up with an asshole and it took me a while to get out of it, Alex, but I didn’t turn around and do the same damn thing first chance I got. Makes you wonder if women will ever get smart.”

“I wouldn’t bet on Mal Worthy having to give up his Bentley,” I said.

“Nor I. Mal’s a smart boy. Did my divorce, did you know?”

I feigned ignorance.

“Probably conflict of interest, my hearing this case, but who cares, it was open-and-shut. Moody’s crazy, he’s screwing up his kids, and my order was the best shot at getting him straightened out. Any chance he’ll follow through on therapy?”

“I doubt it. He doesn’t think anything’s wrong with him.”

“Of course not. The craziest ones never do. Baloney afraid of the slicer. Assuming he doesn’t kill her, you know what’s going to happen, don’t you?”

“More days in court.”

“Absolutely. That idiot Durkin’ll be in here every other week with some ploy to reverse the order. In the meantime Moody will harass Bright Eyes and if it keeps up long enough the kids will be permanently screwed up.” She walked back to her desk with a long graceful stride, took a compact out of her purse and powdered her nose.

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See All Sort by: Showing 1 – 20 of 145 Customer Reviews
  • Anonymous

    Posted June 20, 2009

    I Also Recommend:

    A good Alex Delaware read.

    I have read several of the Alex Delaware books but not in sequence. This is one of the earlier reads and is very good, but not as good as many of the later ones. Always enjoy books that have my favorite characters in them.

    3 out of 3 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted September 26, 2011

    Great Series

    This second book in the Alex Delaware series is great! The plot thickens all along as you read it. You never really have a good idea as to "who done it"!! which makes it so special. I can't wait to read all of them!

    2 out of 2 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted January 26, 2003

    One of the finest mainstream books I've read

    Kellerman is one of the best authors I know of when it comes to plotting story and sufficiently developing characters. The answer to the big mystery was right there in front of your eyes, but I never saw it. In fact, I was positive I had the book figured out completely a hundred pages before finishing it, and thought that this was one of the weakers mystery novels I'd read, but then the answer came and it blew me out of the water, but it made perfect sense and I couldn't believe I didn't think of it before. A truly enjoyable experience, although the ending within the ending was a little too Hollywood for my tastes.

    1 out of 3 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted August 7, 2014

    Bloodclan bios

    Here

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  • Anonymous

    Posted June 6, 2014

    TO ALL BLOODCLAN JOINERS

    Go to blood pool fourth result

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Anonymous

    Posted May 13, 2014

    Darkpaw

    "Okay." She sniffed the air and found a trace of mouse. She followed the scent until she saw the mouse a fox length away. She went into a hunters crouch and began to carefully navigate her way through the twigs and leaves. When she was about a foot away, she leaped, trapping the mouse between her claws. Then she nipped it on the neck for the killing bite.

    0 out of 2 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted May 13, 2014

    Brokenstar

    Well done. She purred. Lets go back to camp. She pads away. ~Brokenstar

    0 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted April 25, 2014

    &#49976

    0 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted March 22, 2014

    &betalue lightning

    Testy!

    0 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted April 26, 2014

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Anonymous

    Posted March 2, 2014

    &eta

    Testing : sαhaδe

    0 out of 2 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted December 19, 2013

    Symbols by Read4Ever

    &#10000 &#10001 &#10002 &#10003 &#10004 &#10005 &#10006 &#10007 &#10008 &#10009 &#10010 &#10011 &#10012 &#10013 &#10014 &#10015 &#10016 &#10017 &#10018 &#10019 &#10020 &#10021 &#10022 &#10023

    0 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted October 3, 2013

    &scythe

    0 out of 3 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted October 3, 2013

    Mystery

    Lets just mutate at res one

    0 out of 2 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted November 3, 2012

    Ok to all

    Hello this is a human rp and post whatever No rules this was started by London

    0 out of 4 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted October 28, 2012

    Test

    Test

    0 out of 3 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted October 28, 2012

    Tori to miko

    R u still going out with phillip?

    0 out of 5 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted November 29, 2012

    Michiru

    Ive been rping there xD

    0 out of 5 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted October 28, 2012

    Chris

    /)_-

    0 out of 4 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted November 29, 2012

    Skull

    What? Whitefang rp? We just made it... whitefang all results...

    0 out of 3 people found this review helpful.

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