Sublime

“Do you even know how to use that?” he asked, thumbing a long, thin knife. Eli’s hands were shaking visibly around the gun’s grip.

she was the damaged goods and it was only a matter of time until David realized it.

He swallowed, and drove the pen into his dead friend’s chest. One count, two count, three count. Nothing. And then, somewhere between Victor giving up and reaching for his phone, Eli gasped.

“Are you turning yourself into what I want? Is that why whenever I’m with you, I . . .” His voice trails off, or maybe it doesn’t. Maybe I’ve just reached critical mass.

“Vanity, thy name is woman,” Derek said with what seemed like a forced joviality. He was not, Ursula noticed, as comfortable in social situations as she had first thought. She smiled at him, feeling a new bond. She was marrying a stranger, she realized. (“Everyone marries a stranger,” Hugh said.)

Kurt.

He was the powerful, all-but-immortal Incarnation standing tall after a harsh battle. He was the menace, looming over a weary swordsman who kept his blade raised in futile defiance. He was the uncaring master, carelessly discarding minions by the score, their bodies strewn all over the street. He was the traitor who had beaten Simon bloody for tryi

“Angie is dead—,” said Eli. “Yes, I know—” “…but so are you.” It wasn’t a threat. “I don’t know who you are, but you’re not Victor. You’re something that’s crawled into his skin. A devil wearing him.” “Ouch,” said Victor, and for some reason, the word made him laugh.

“When we release you, I’m going to recommend that you meet with Lockland’s counselor.” Victor groaned. Counselor Peter Mark. A man with two first names, no sense of humor, and a sweat gland issue.