Dragon’s curse. I am already possessed and thus it would seem that I’m safe from you.”
“Drink from the cup and you may still have me . Its brew is stronger than your curse. Look at me, Jublain.”
Jublain’s feverish eyes burned . Even now, he was tempted. It was uncanny. “I bid you good-bye, Red Lady. Long may you rest in this haunted hole. Long may you molder in this ruin.”
“Fool ! I can give you so much. Look at me.”
Jublain lurched to the fireplace and reached in with his gauntleted hand, selecting the brightest-burning bone. He withdrew it and strode for the door.
“The pack will gnaw your flesh and drag your carcass within for me to burn .”
“You know otherwise, milady .” Then, before he could change his mind, Jublain thrust the bone-torch through the narrowly open door. He left the Scarlet Woman to her lingering sorceries.
Quantum Metaphysics
Boss Chuikov spread his pudgy fingers across his desk. “I do not like being taken for an idiot, Paul. It displeases me.”
I bobbed my head and tried not to breathe deeply. The stench of cigars permeated everything, especially Chuikov’s suit. Pictures of white-skinned Ukrainian boxers festooned the walls. Many of the boxing photographs had black-marker signatures. Several of those signers worked for Chuikov. They helped in collections.
“Do I look like idiot to you?”
“No, Mr. Chuikov.”
“You are idiot, Paul. You are fool.” Chuikov dug into his pocket and pulled out a cell phone, his blunt fingers somehow pressing the correct buttons. “It is time for Yury to drive you to Sonoma Point. You will learn that breathing is privilege, and then I will hear no more ridiculous proposals.”
Did I say that I was a chronic gambler? It must have been the reason I decided to gamble in Chuikov’s office. I had heard too many sadistic stories about Yury ‘the Ukrainian Undertaker.’
“Mr. Chuikov, I think the truth is that you are being a fool, maybe even an idiot.”
Boss Chuikov fixed me with an ominous stare and then snapped his cell phone shut. A terrible smile made his entire, lumpy face move about and almost hid his dark little eyes behind rolls of pink flesh.
“Do you know that when I first came to this wonderful country I broke fingers for a living? I have not forgotten how, Paul. You do not look like strong person. You will scream like little girl as I snap each finger. You will never hold your cards the same, I promise this.” Chuikov slapped those meaty hands onto his armrests and grunted as he pushed himself up.
“Mr. Chuikov, sir, I just spoke rhetorically. I’m sure you realize that.”
“No. I say what I mean and mean what I say.”
I bobbed my head and backed up as Mr. Chuikov waddled around his gigantic desk. “It’s a demonstration, sir. That’s all I’m asking for. So you’ll see that I’m not making this up. Can you imagine how many people will flock to get their pictures taken?” I swallowed hard, a vile, acidic taste burning the back of my throat. Unconsciously, I balled my fingers into fists, not to fight—Heaven’s no!—but to protect my poor hands. “Look at your walls, Mr. Chuikov. Look at all the pictures you have.”
He grinned, reminding me of a Rottweiler that had once broken its chain, rushed me and bitten my thigh. I well remember the brutish beast’s cold teeth, and the feral eyes—they were the same eyes as Boss Chuikov!
“Sir,” I said, bumping against the door, my hand snaking behind me. I twisted the doorknob, and then the bullfrog Mr. Chuikov showed why he had been such a good wrestler. He moved faster than I had expected, slamming me against the door. One pudgy hand grasped my throat, the other hand grabbed a wrist.
“Think of all the money,” I wheezed. “You can buy first shares. Doctor Hiram needs backers.” His iron-strong fingers squeezed my wrist so the bones painfully shifted. “Please, Mr. Chuikov. Aren’t you interested in knowing the color of your
“Drink from the cup and you may still have me . Its brew is stronger than your curse. Look at me, Jublain.”
Jublain’s feverish eyes burned . Even now, he was tempted. It was uncanny. “I bid you good-bye, Red Lady. Long may you rest in this haunted hole. Long may you molder in this ruin.”
“Fool ! I can give you so much. Look at me.”
Jublain lurched to the fireplace and reached in with his gauntleted hand, selecting the brightest-burning bone. He withdrew it and strode for the door.
“The pack will gnaw your flesh and drag your carcass within for me to burn .”
“You know otherwise, milady .” Then, before he could change his mind, Jublain thrust the bone-torch through the narrowly open door. He left the Scarlet Woman to her lingering sorceries.
Quantum Metaphysics
Boss Chuikov spread his pudgy fingers across his desk. “I do not like being taken for an idiot, Paul. It displeases me.”
I bobbed my head and tried not to breathe deeply. The stench of cigars permeated everything, especially Chuikov’s suit. Pictures of white-skinned Ukrainian boxers festooned the walls. Many of the boxing photographs had black-marker signatures. Several of those signers worked for Chuikov. They helped in collections.
“Do I look like idiot to you?”
“No, Mr. Chuikov.”
“You are idiot, Paul. You are fool.” Chuikov dug into his pocket and pulled out a cell phone, his blunt fingers somehow pressing the correct buttons. “It is time for Yury to drive you to Sonoma Point. You will learn that breathing is privilege, and then I will hear no more ridiculous proposals.”
Did I say that I was a chronic gambler? It must have been the reason I decided to gamble in Chuikov’s office. I had heard too many sadistic stories about Yury ‘the Ukrainian Undertaker.’
“Mr. Chuikov, I think the truth is that you are being a fool, maybe even an idiot.”
Boss Chuikov fixed me with an ominous stare and then snapped his cell phone shut. A terrible smile made his entire, lumpy face move about and almost hid his dark little eyes behind rolls of pink flesh.
“Do you know that when I first came to this wonderful country I broke fingers for a living? I have not forgotten how, Paul. You do not look like strong person. You will scream like little girl as I snap each finger. You will never hold your cards the same, I promise this.” Chuikov slapped those meaty hands onto his armrests and grunted as he pushed himself up.
“Mr. Chuikov, sir, I just spoke rhetorically. I’m sure you realize that.”
“No. I say what I mean and mean what I say.”
I bobbed my head and backed up as Mr. Chuikov waddled around his gigantic desk. “It’s a demonstration, sir. That’s all I’m asking for. So you’ll see that I’m not making this up. Can you imagine how many people will flock to get their pictures taken?” I swallowed hard, a vile, acidic taste burning the back of my throat. Unconsciously, I balled my fingers into fists, not to fight—Heaven’s no!—but to protect my poor hands. “Look at your walls, Mr. Chuikov. Look at all the pictures you have.”
He grinned, reminding me of a Rottweiler that had once broken its chain, rushed me and bitten my thigh. I well remember the brutish beast’s cold teeth, and the feral eyes—they were the same eyes as Boss Chuikov!
“Sir,” I said, bumping against the door, my hand snaking behind me. I twisted the doorknob, and then the bullfrog Mr. Chuikov showed why he had been such a good wrestler. He moved faster than I had expected, slamming me against the door. One pudgy hand grasped my throat, the other hand grabbed a wrist.
“Think of all the money,” I wheezed. “You can buy first shares. Doctor Hiram needs backers.” His iron-strong fingers squeezed my wrist so the bones painfully shifted. “Please, Mr. Chuikov. Aren’t you interested in knowing the color of your
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