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  • Home > Anne Bishop > Black Jewels > Heir to the Shadows (Chapter 92)      Page
  • Heir to the Shadows(Black Jewels,Book 2)(92) by Anne Bishop
  • He clung to the sharp grass on the crumbling island ofmaybe and watched the sticks float toward him. They were evenly spaced like the boards of a rope bridge strung across the endless sea. But the footing would be precarious at best, and there were no ropes to hang on to. If he tried to use them, he would sink beneath the vast sea of blood.

    He was going to sink anyway. The island continued to crumble. Eventually there wouldn't be enough left to hold him.

    He was tired. He was willing to let it suck him down.

    The sticks broke formation, swirled and re-formed, swirled and re-formed over and over again into rough letters.

    You are my instrument.

    Words lie. Blood doesn't.

    Butchering whore.

    He tried to scramble away from that side of the island, but the other side kept crumbling, crumbling. There was only enough room now for him to lie there, helpless.

    Something moved beneath the sea of blood, disturbing the sticks and their endless words. The sticks swirled around his small island, bumped against the crumbling

    edges ofmaybe, and piled up against each other to form a fragile, protective wall.

    He leaned over the edge and watched the face float upward, sapphire eyes staring at nothing, golden hair spread out like a fan.

    The lips moved.Daemon.

    He reached down and gently lifted the face out of the sea of blood. Not a head, just a face, as smooth and lifeless as a mask.

    The lips moved again. The word sounded like the sigh of the night wind, like a caress.Daemon.

    The face dissolved, oozed through his fingers.

    Sobbing, he tried to hold it, tried to re-form it into that beloved face. The harder he tried, the quicker it slipped through his fingers until there was nothing left.

    Shadows in the bloody sea. A woman's face, full of compassion and understanding, surrounded by a mass of tangled black hair.

    Wait,she said.Walt. The threads are not yet in place.

    She vanished in the ripples.

    Finally, there was an easy thing to do, a thing without pain, without fear.

    Making himself as comfortable as possible, he settled down to wait.

    4 / Kaeleer

    Saetan wondered if there was something wrong with the bookcases behind his desk or if there was something wrong with his butler, because Beale had been staring at the same spot for almost a minute.

    "High Lord," Beale said stiffly, still staring at the bookcases.

    "Beale," Saetan replied cautiously.

    "There's a Warlord to see you."

    Saetan carefully set bis glasses on top of the papers covering his desk, and folded his hands to keep them from shaking. "Is he cringing?"

    Scale's lips twitched. "No, High Lord."

    Saetan sagged in his chair. "Thank the Darkness. At least he's not here because of something the girls have done."

    "I don't believe the Ladies are involved, High Lord."

  • Romance | Fantasy | Vampire