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first stirrings of dawn. A shiver stirred the still inky surface of the demon, and Paul felt
an echoing pang through his unbeing. The bars of the prison were thinning.
The demon flowed to its feet and slunk to the back door. After a few attempts the
thing never had fully grasped the idea of latches and knobs it drifted into the house. It
paused in the hallway. Through its eyes, Paul saw the black envelope on the table where
he d left it, unopened.
Paul felt a sudden sharp pain, the first thing he d felt that was his and not the
demon s since sunset. His body was reforming. Bones were coming back from wherever
the curse had banished them.
The demon stopped in front of the bedroom mirror, a thing it had not done for years,
for over a decade. It lifted its eyes to its own reflection. The demon s eyes were flat,
yellow, without a pupil. Paul couldn t read any human expression in them. But the demon
stared into its own eyes, and Paul realized it was trying to reach him.
Name! If it would only give him a hint, a clue, something. Name, name, name, name,
name, name
Agony speared Paul. The demon fell into a heap, its reflection lost to its own eyes
and to Paul s. Shivering and squirming, the demon snaked across the bedroom floor, into
the hallway. It let itself tumble down the stairs, coming to rest against the closed studio
door.
Paul felt his bones again, his heart. He tasted the coppery crust of the blood he d
shed during the sunset change. It was like climbing out of a pit of tar, every morning. It
took every bit of his strength. He pushed his face up through the thick blackness, his
newly reformed lungs burning with the need to fill with air. He broke the surface of the
demon and gasped for breath. He pulled his body free of the thing, heaving and flopping,
feeling the demon draining down into him, through his eyes and ears, his nose, his mouth,
his pores. Finally, finally, he lay on the floor, naked, gasping, feeling the oily residue of
the demon coating his skin. The prison formed just below his heart. He felt the decisive
tactile click of the bars, and he opened his eyes.
The first rays of sunlight streamed in through the kitchen window and into the hall.
From inside the prison behind his heart, Paul felt the demon s inconsolable wave of fury
and grief rise up like a black tide.
Paul pulled himself to his feet and stumbled up the stairs to the bathroom. He set the
faucets for steaming hot and hung himself under the pounding spray. He leaned his
forehead against the shower tiles and felt the water beat down his neck, down his
shoulder blades.
 We can t go on like this much longer, he whispered to the demon. In response, he
felt a crescendo of rage that snapped at the end with bitter helplessness.  We just can t.
He thought of Kate s body, all warm graphite lines and smudged shadows. He
thought of the sadness stark on her black-and-white reflection. Reflection. He
remembered the demon in the mirror, its body living ink, pulsing shadow, with flat
shark s eyes. How could she accept that? How could she love that?
Apparently Sander Wald could.
Rage that was not entirely the demon s electrified Paul s exhausted body. He dried,
dressed, and took the steps two at a time. He was at the door, his hand on the knob, when
the presence of the white flowers and the black envelope reached out and tapped his
shoulder.
Backing up, Paul stared through the kitchen doorway. The white flowers seemed so
innocent, so harmless. Beside the tender petals, the black envelope seemed to throb with
threat.
Does it matter what s inside? Paul did not want to give Sander Wald any more time,
any more of himself, than he had to. But he couldn t leave without opening it.
Paul picked up the envelope gingerly, as if it might sprout teeth and snap at his hand.
With one finger, he picked open the wax seal, and pulled out a single slice of crisp silver-
white stationary, folded over once. He unfolded it. In flowing script, in black ink, one
word: Tomorrow.
Paul let the slip of paper fall from his hands. Tomorrow.
That was today. Sometime today, Sander would arrive, and Paul would have to [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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