and silence descended. The demons disappeared, the sickness lifted—leaving its foul impression on reality behind—and I got up and pulled Stanley to his feet. I left Oliver where he was.
"Did it work?" I asked, peering at the still very dead looking Grandmaster.
"Yes, I think so. We just have to wait a minute."
"We better be quick, my shift ends in five and Elaine usually comes in early." Stanley hurriedly tidied away brains and assorted goop before it was time for him to leave.
"Just a second," said Dancer, staring at the corpse in anticipation.
The old guy sat bolt upright, gasped for air like a goldfish in a cracked aquarium, stared around with wild eyes all black from where I'd accidentally made them boil, just a bit—Dancer had done a fine repair job on them—then screamed at the top of his lungs. Not words, a primeval roar of absolute terror.
You couldn't blame him. After all, he'd just come back from the other side, whatever that meant for him personally.
Stanley pushed him down flat and slammed the drawer closed.
"Hey, you can't leave him like that, he'll freak," I said, feeling really bad for the old man.
"It will be for only a minute, and it's better than us all being discovered when Elaine arrives. You have to go, now." Stanley ushered us to the door, and we made to leave. He put an arm on my shoulder and said, "Don't forget your promise."
"I won't," I sighed. "I'll try, but there are no guarantees. And if she says yes then you better behave. Don't even think about preying on an old, innocent lady like Grandma. She's my only family."
Stanley held his hands up in protest. "I wouldn't dream of it, my dear boy. Or should I say, grandson?"
I felt like a thousand ice-cubes had been dropped down my underwear. Damn, was this him sharing what he knew to be the future? Or was he just going along with what he'd done in his life when he lived it for the first time and was making a rather tasteless joke?
You can see why seers like this are not easy to be around. It messes with your head something rotten.
We left, even Oliver, who looked worse than I felt.
The screaming from the drawer was really loud.
Is it Nice?
Out in the car park, we stood for a while sucking down deep lungfuls of fresh air, at least compared to the stink of the morgue. We watched Elaine as she rushed past us through the doors, seemingly late and looking flustered. Hopefully that would mean the poor guy wouldn't be screaming and freaked out for too much longer.
Stanley was right though, best she found him. It would make it a lot easier, and if he said that then it was the right thing to do. Maybe.
That's the real issue with seers—do they say things because it's the right thing and they know the results will be good, or do they stick exactly to the future they have already seen, be it good or bad? They never explain it properly so you never really know.
The drizzle resumed after a break to gather more depressing clouds, so we waited in the car. At least, me and Dancer did. Oliver hung around outside, didn't even ask to come in. He stood under the cover of the entry and observed the people coming and going.
"Will you look at that guy. Makes my skin crawl," said Dancer with a shudder.
"Says the man who just re-animated a corpse."
"That's different." He actually pouted. "Oliver there is looking for his next meal. He's preying on the weak, looking for someone too sad to care."
I watched Oliver for as long as I could stand, which was not long at all. Dancer was right, he was studying the people, stepping close to some, reading them, looking for pliable minds he could glamor now, eat later.
More than anything, I wanted to do something, but it's not my place, our place, and trying would lead to more death, more hurt, and it would never end.
In the end he got bored, and sat on the steps, waiting for me to leave. So he could follow, keep an eye on me until he felt satisfied.
I wanted to hang around and see what happened,
"Did it work?" I asked, peering at the still very dead looking Grandmaster.
"Yes, I think so. We just have to wait a minute."
"We better be quick, my shift ends in five and Elaine usually comes in early." Stanley hurriedly tidied away brains and assorted goop before it was time for him to leave.
"Just a second," said Dancer, staring at the corpse in anticipation.
The old guy sat bolt upright, gasped for air like a goldfish in a cracked aquarium, stared around with wild eyes all black from where I'd accidentally made them boil, just a bit—Dancer had done a fine repair job on them—then screamed at the top of his lungs. Not words, a primeval roar of absolute terror.
You couldn't blame him. After all, he'd just come back from the other side, whatever that meant for him personally.
Stanley pushed him down flat and slammed the drawer closed.
"Hey, you can't leave him like that, he'll freak," I said, feeling really bad for the old man.
"It will be for only a minute, and it's better than us all being discovered when Elaine arrives. You have to go, now." Stanley ushered us to the door, and we made to leave. He put an arm on my shoulder and said, "Don't forget your promise."
"I won't," I sighed. "I'll try, but there are no guarantees. And if she says yes then you better behave. Don't even think about preying on an old, innocent lady like Grandma. She's my only family."
Stanley held his hands up in protest. "I wouldn't dream of it, my dear boy. Or should I say, grandson?"
I felt like a thousand ice-cubes had been dropped down my underwear. Damn, was this him sharing what he knew to be the future? Or was he just going along with what he'd done in his life when he lived it for the first time and was making a rather tasteless joke?
You can see why seers like this are not easy to be around. It messes with your head something rotten.
We left, even Oliver, who looked worse than I felt.
The screaming from the drawer was really loud.
Is it Nice?
Out in the car park, we stood for a while sucking down deep lungfuls of fresh air, at least compared to the stink of the morgue. We watched Elaine as she rushed past us through the doors, seemingly late and looking flustered. Hopefully that would mean the poor guy wouldn't be screaming and freaked out for too much longer.
Stanley was right though, best she found him. It would make it a lot easier, and if he said that then it was the right thing to do. Maybe.
That's the real issue with seers—do they say things because it's the right thing and they know the results will be good, or do they stick exactly to the future they have already seen, be it good or bad? They never explain it properly so you never really know.
The drizzle resumed after a break to gather more depressing clouds, so we waited in the car. At least, me and Dancer did. Oliver hung around outside, didn't even ask to come in. He stood under the cover of the entry and observed the people coming and going.
"Will you look at that guy. Makes my skin crawl," said Dancer with a shudder.
"Says the man who just re-animated a corpse."
"That's different." He actually pouted. "Oliver there is looking for his next meal. He's preying on the weak, looking for someone too sad to care."
I watched Oliver for as long as I could stand, which was not long at all. Dancer was right, he was studying the people, stepping close to some, reading them, looking for pliable minds he could glamor now, eat later.
More than anything, I wanted to do something, but it's not my place, our place, and trying would lead to more death, more hurt, and it would never end.
In the end he got bored, and sat on the steps, waiting for me to leave. So he could follow, keep an eye on me until he felt satisfied.
I wanted to hang around and see what happened,
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