concerns one
who I know you are interested in. I speak of your maker and my former student, Lord
Mauride, known also as Morgan.
You can contact me through the human, Palmer.
Sonja looked at her left hand. The hand the private investigator had touched. She hadn't recognized the human as a sensitive at first-it was obvious he was unaware of his own talent-so she'd been unshielded. She'd received a barrage of sensory images, the most vivid being that of a scarlet-clad nymph with a smoking gun, before breaking contact. The exchange had been unexpected and unwelcome, but she had gleaned enough information from the jumble to discern that William Palmer was exactly what he thought he was: a free agent.
She knew where Palmer was staying-she made it a point to be familiar with the city's nests-and wondered if it was time for her to get in touch with the "family."
Renfield sat in an antique chair, his pallid bureaucrat's features breaking into something like a smile at the sight of Palmer in the company of the gorilla.
"Excellent. I assume you fulfilled your part of the bargain, Mr. Palmer. You did succeed in delivering the letter?"
"Yeah, I delivered your fucking letter! What the hell are you trying to pull, Renfield?" Palmer tried to jerk free of the gorilla and heard the seams in his jacket tear.
"Pull?" Renfield smiled again. Palmer wished he'd stop. "Mr. Palmer, if you continue struggling, I'll have Keif pull your right arm off and beat you with it."
Palmer didn't doubt Keif could do it and ceased trying to break free. He glanced around the room-empty except for the chair and Renfield-and wondered if the louvered shutters were nailed shut. If they weren't, he might stand a chance of escape, providing his guard let go of his shoulder and he didn't break every bone in his body jumping from the third-floor balcony onto the patio below.
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"I wouldn't recommend trying such heroics, Mr. Palmer," Renfield said, smiling and crossing and recrossing his legs like a bored personnel manager at a job interview. "The shutters are, indeed, nailed in place. Oh, don't look so surprised! Of course I can read your mind, such as it is. It's an open book- although short story would better describe it. You may let go of him, Keif." The vise clamping Palmer's shoulder disappeared. "I can handle our friend from here on. Go and watch the door."
Keif grunted, pausing on the threshold to give Palmer a final, hungry look.
"Go on! Go on! Do as I say!" snapped Renfield, waving at the goon as if shooing a bothersome child out of the kitchen. "You'll get your share, as always!"
Palmer swung toward Renfield, fists balled. "Look here, you mealy-mouthed bastard! What the hell do you think you're doing? If I don't get some answers I'm gonna-"
"You're going to die, Mr. Palmer."
Fire coursed through Palmer's veins, turning his blood to slag. His intestines boiled in their own juices as his bones powdered into ash. His eyeballs exploded and dribbled down his cheeks like egg yolks. He tried to scream, but his lungs were full of burning water.
The fire disappeared as quickly as it descended. Palmer lay on the bare floor, knees drawn up under his chin. He could taste blood in his mouth. Had he bitten his tongue?
"Wha-What did you do to-?"
"You died, Mr. Palmer. And you will continue to die until I decide otherwise.
Honestly, I can't understand what it is the Doctor sees in you. True, you have some talent," he sniffed, "but all this other mental and emotional baggage-empathy, sympathy, the ability to love-it's simply not worth the effort of deprogramming!"
Coldness shot through Palmer, spearing his nervous system with a million icicles.
His lungs filled with ice crystals and his urine turned to slush in his bladder. He whimpered as his toes and fingers turned black and fell off.
"I have no intention of letting you survive this little ordeal." Renfield was
who I know you are interested in. I speak of your maker and my former student, Lord
Mauride, known also as Morgan.
You can contact me through the human, Palmer.
Sonja looked at her left hand. The hand the private investigator had touched. She hadn't recognized the human as a sensitive at first-it was obvious he was unaware of his own talent-so she'd been unshielded. She'd received a barrage of sensory images, the most vivid being that of a scarlet-clad nymph with a smoking gun, before breaking contact. The exchange had been unexpected and unwelcome, but she had gleaned enough information from the jumble to discern that William Palmer was exactly what he thought he was: a free agent.
She knew where Palmer was staying-she made it a point to be familiar with the city's nests-and wondered if it was time for her to get in touch with the "family."
Renfield sat in an antique chair, his pallid bureaucrat's features breaking into something like a smile at the sight of Palmer in the company of the gorilla.
"Excellent. I assume you fulfilled your part of the bargain, Mr. Palmer. You did succeed in delivering the letter?"
"Yeah, I delivered your fucking letter! What the hell are you trying to pull, Renfield?" Palmer tried to jerk free of the gorilla and heard the seams in his jacket tear.
"Pull?" Renfield smiled again. Palmer wished he'd stop. "Mr. Palmer, if you continue struggling, I'll have Keif pull your right arm off and beat you with it."
Palmer didn't doubt Keif could do it and ceased trying to break free. He glanced around the room-empty except for the chair and Renfield-and wondered if the louvered shutters were nailed shut. If they weren't, he might stand a chance of escape, providing his guard let go of his shoulder and he didn't break every bone in his body jumping from the third-floor balcony onto the patio below.
Create PDF files without this message by purchasing novaPDF printer ( http://www.novapdf.com )
"I wouldn't recommend trying such heroics, Mr. Palmer," Renfield said, smiling and crossing and recrossing his legs like a bored personnel manager at a job interview. "The shutters are, indeed, nailed in place. Oh, don't look so surprised! Of course I can read your mind, such as it is. It's an open book- although short story would better describe it. You may let go of him, Keif." The vise clamping Palmer's shoulder disappeared. "I can handle our friend from here on. Go and watch the door."
Keif grunted, pausing on the threshold to give Palmer a final, hungry look.
"Go on! Go on! Do as I say!" snapped Renfield, waving at the goon as if shooing a bothersome child out of the kitchen. "You'll get your share, as always!"
Palmer swung toward Renfield, fists balled. "Look here, you mealy-mouthed bastard! What the hell do you think you're doing? If I don't get some answers I'm gonna-"
"You're going to die, Mr. Palmer."
Fire coursed through Palmer's veins, turning his blood to slag. His intestines boiled in their own juices as his bones powdered into ash. His eyeballs exploded and dribbled down his cheeks like egg yolks. He tried to scream, but his lungs were full of burning water.
The fire disappeared as quickly as it descended. Palmer lay on the bare floor, knees drawn up under his chin. He could taste blood in his mouth. Had he bitten his tongue?
"Wha-What did you do to-?"
"You died, Mr. Palmer. And you will continue to die until I decide otherwise.
Honestly, I can't understand what it is the Doctor sees in you. True, you have some talent," he sniffed, "but all this other mental and emotional baggage-empathy, sympathy, the ability to love-it's simply not worth the effort of deprogramming!"
Coldness shot through Palmer, spearing his nervous system with a million icicles.
His lungs filled with ice crystals and his urine turned to slush in his bladder. He whimpered as his toes and fingers turned black and fell off.
"I have no intention of letting you survive this little ordeal." Renfield was
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