his tongue in disapproval. "The years have not improved your etiquette, my dear. You're just as blunt as ever. I guess that's what comes of being American." He shrugged free of the bloodstained tunic, revealing a hairless chest as pale as milk and covered with the faint traces of hundreds of crisscrossing scars.
The newest wound, the one piercing his heart, was already puckering into pink scar tissue. Palmer thought the vampire's exposed torso looked like a Braille road map.
Without realizing it, he touched his own chest, tracing his near-fatal flaw. He wondered for a moment if Sonja's flesh was equally scarred, then hastily pushed the thought aside.
Pangloss strode across the room and removed a green silk dressing gown from a peg near the door. "You still cling to certain human conceits, such as the ludicrous idea that time is valuable. You're far too impatient, my dear! When will you realize that time is the one thing you have plenty of? Then again, I forget how young you are.
You are indeed a prodigy, my dear. But, in many ways, you are a backward child.
Come, let us retire to more amenable surroundings."
As they left the gymnasium, Palmer glanced over his shoulder and saw the ogre, Keif, enter from another door. As he watched, the ogre picked up the severed head of the ill-fated Herr Gruenwald from its resting place on the floor. The ogre shucked the head free of the fencing mask and grinned, revealing hideous teeth, and lifted
Create PDF files without this message by purchasing novaPDF printer ( http://www.novapdf.com ) the dead man's skull to its mouth. Palmer looked away, but he could still hear. It sounded just like someone biting into a big, crisp apple.
Marble art deco nymphs flanked the hearth while a panther carved from a single piece of obsidian crouched on the mantelpiece. There was a fire burning behind the ornate iron screen, but Palmer couldn't feel it. Perhaps it was just the notorious San Francisco Bay damp getting to him, but he doubted it.
Pangloss stood at the picture window, his back to his guests. The fog was heavy, obscuring what little view was available at two in the morning. The swirling gray mist reminded Palmer of the tobacco demons he'd seen earlier, so he returned his gaze to the fireplace.
"You said you know where Morgan is," Sonja said.
Pangloss glanced back over his shoulder. "I do."
"Well?"
"I would rather speak to you in private. Shall we retire to the patio?" Pangloss gestured to the sliding glass door that opened onto a rooftop garden.
Sonja glanced at Palmer, then nodded her assent. She followed the elder vampire onto the fog-enshrouded terrace. The sea air was sharp in her nostrils, reminding her of blood. The Other's voice stirred inside her head, admonishing her for having subsisted for so long on nothing but bottled plasma. She tried to ignore it; this was neither the time nor the place for the Other's yammering to put her off guard.
Pangloss was dangerous. She'd learned that the hard way over a decade ago.
Pangloss stood with his hands clasped behind his back, staring into the fog bank.
"You've changed, my dear. Matured. I noticed it the moment I laid eyes on you.
You're not as angry as you used to be."
"Me used to be angry young man, me hidin' me head in the sand."
"Beg pardon?"
"Let's just say I've discovered how to work within the system since the last time we met. I've learned to... focus myself. Now, about Morgan."
Pangloss turned to face her, and for a brief moment she was looking at an unwrapped mummy with red coals banked deep in its empty orbits. The vampire reached into the voluminous pockets of its dressing gown and retrieved an ivory cigarette holder with dry twig fingers. The first time she'd glimpsed Pangloss's true self she'd come close to screaming. But now, fifteen years later, his desiccated appearance seemed almost normal.
"Ah, yes... Morgan. It always comes back to Morgan, doesn't it?" His voice was melancholy. "He was my greatest
The newest wound, the one piercing his heart, was already puckering into pink scar tissue. Palmer thought the vampire's exposed torso looked like a Braille road map.
Without realizing it, he touched his own chest, tracing his near-fatal flaw. He wondered for a moment if Sonja's flesh was equally scarred, then hastily pushed the thought aside.
Pangloss strode across the room and removed a green silk dressing gown from a peg near the door. "You still cling to certain human conceits, such as the ludicrous idea that time is valuable. You're far too impatient, my dear! When will you realize that time is the one thing you have plenty of? Then again, I forget how young you are.
You are indeed a prodigy, my dear. But, in many ways, you are a backward child.
Come, let us retire to more amenable surroundings."
As they left the gymnasium, Palmer glanced over his shoulder and saw the ogre, Keif, enter from another door. As he watched, the ogre picked up the severed head of the ill-fated Herr Gruenwald from its resting place on the floor. The ogre shucked the head free of the fencing mask and grinned, revealing hideous teeth, and lifted
Create PDF files without this message by purchasing novaPDF printer ( http://www.novapdf.com ) the dead man's skull to its mouth. Palmer looked away, but he could still hear. It sounded just like someone biting into a big, crisp apple.
Marble art deco nymphs flanked the hearth while a panther carved from a single piece of obsidian crouched on the mantelpiece. There was a fire burning behind the ornate iron screen, but Palmer couldn't feel it. Perhaps it was just the notorious San Francisco Bay damp getting to him, but he doubted it.
Pangloss stood at the picture window, his back to his guests. The fog was heavy, obscuring what little view was available at two in the morning. The swirling gray mist reminded Palmer of the tobacco demons he'd seen earlier, so he returned his gaze to the fireplace.
"You said you know where Morgan is," Sonja said.
Pangloss glanced back over his shoulder. "I do."
"Well?"
"I would rather speak to you in private. Shall we retire to the patio?" Pangloss gestured to the sliding glass door that opened onto a rooftop garden.
Sonja glanced at Palmer, then nodded her assent. She followed the elder vampire onto the fog-enshrouded terrace. The sea air was sharp in her nostrils, reminding her of blood. The Other's voice stirred inside her head, admonishing her for having subsisted for so long on nothing but bottled plasma. She tried to ignore it; this was neither the time nor the place for the Other's yammering to put her off guard.
Pangloss was dangerous. She'd learned that the hard way over a decade ago.
Pangloss stood with his hands clasped behind his back, staring into the fog bank.
"You've changed, my dear. Matured. I noticed it the moment I laid eyes on you.
You're not as angry as you used to be."
"Me used to be angry young man, me hidin' me head in the sand."
"Beg pardon?"
"Let's just say I've discovered how to work within the system since the last time we met. I've learned to... focus myself. Now, about Morgan."
Pangloss turned to face her, and for a brief moment she was looking at an unwrapped mummy with red coals banked deep in its empty orbits. The vampire reached into the voluminous pockets of its dressing gown and retrieved an ivory cigarette holder with dry twig fingers. The first time she'd glimpsed Pangloss's true self she'd come close to screaming. But now, fifteen years later, his desiccated appearance seemed almost normal.
"Ah, yes... Morgan. It always comes back to Morgan, doesn't it?" His voice was melancholy. "He was my greatest
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