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Surely it was lunacy to believe it.
The floral arrangement sat in the corner of his office near a window both large and small enough to
denote his position. Medium. Medium importance. It was a level he had chosen with care. He welded
enough power to accomplish what he needed to accomplish, yet not so much that he would arouse
suspicion with unusual behavior. At least, not in anyone he d have a problem dealing with. Davis Rule s
watchful eyes had been easy enough to direct elsewhere.
He walked over to the exotic bouquet and softly trailed the pads of his fingers along the creamy
fuchsia-tipped blossoms. Their scent, slightly sultry, slightly sweet, came to him in a pleasant waft. His
groin tightened in response and he relished the not-unpleasant ache. He allowed himself a moment to
remember. Even a strong man could be nostalgic.
It was her scent. She d had the injection several years ago and the quick cosmetic procedure subtly
caused her skin to emit this fragrance. It was the only vanity he d ever known her to adopt. She would need
another injection in a month or so, but by that time she wouldn t need anything except the grave she slept
in.
He grasped a petal between his thumb and forefinger and slowly slid those digits in a crushing slide,
smearing the silky fluids of the ruined flower on his fingers. He regretted the necessity of her death even as
he anticipated the execution of it. He was restless. The need for action was a part of him. It would always
be there, coursing through his veins just as the flowers had their scent. Silk s scent.
She had to die.
He brought his hand to his face and breathed deeply. Remembering. The door opened behind him.
 Mr. Kale. They ve been spotted.
The name still felt odd to his ears and he didn t turn to acknowledge the man who had interrupted his
thoughts. That didn t stop the FBI agent from stepping through the door he had opened without a knock.
 The information we retrieved from Harding was accurate. They drove into the West Virginia hills.
Larkin paused as if he waited for a response.
Instead of responding, he reached to pluck the ruined bloom from the bouquet. He looked at the
destroyed beauty of it as it rested on the palm of his hand for a long moment before he closed his fist
around it.
www.samhainpublishing.com 45
Barbara J. Hancock
 I never saw flowers like those before. You got connections in the rainforest?
 I have connections, he replied. He wondered what Larkin would think if he knew the flowers came
from another world.
Finally, he turned. The tall, thin agent who called him William Kale stood just inside the threshold.
 Go.
Larkin jumped as if his boss had shouted. Perhaps his expression had lent more force to the softly
spoken command. He was still getting used to this new face.
 Bring her to me.
 And Rule?
He put the pulp of the crushed flower in his pocket and carefully composed the surgically crafted
features of his new face into a smile.
 That depends on how badly he gets in the way.
Larkin smiled in return, and with a quick nod that was just short of a bow, he left to do as he had been
told.
The man who posed as William Kale sat down at his borrowed desk and picked up the phone. He
didn t press a button. He didn t have to.
 We ll have her soon.
A bittersweet ache squeezed his heart as he spoke the words. It didn t sway his resolve. He simply
couldn t wait to see her again. Besides, he knew Siilc. He knew she would die well.
They d received an address in Pennsylvania from Solstice Meadows. This one they had to memorize
because the man who described himself as a hip-ee didn t believe in writing implements. He wrote nothing
and burned the letters he received from Piper Jo. Silk let him burn the tiny note that had led them to him.
They all watched as Piper s red crayon scratches bled and melted and burned into nothingness.
 You can never be too careful, ya know? Never.
Privately, Davis agreed. Not that there was anything to hide in the dusty little shack. They had learned
nothing from Meadows. Aside from how to brew a great cup of tea.
He sipped his and watched as Silk laughed easily with their host. If he didn t know better, he d think
she was a flower child herself. Her bare toes peaked out from under her rump where she d tucked her legs
beneath her. She had a ratty old quilt draped around her shoulders like a shawl and her hair had dried in a [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]