Sublime

He had been willing to play the villain when he thought Eli was actually a hero; now that the truth of his old friend was proving itself to be much darker, Victor would relish the role as opposition, adversary, foe.

VICTOR wasn’t thinking of the weather. He hardly felt the cold through his coat. He was too busy trying to picture what Eli’s face would look like when he received their message. Trying to picture the shock, the anger, and threaded through it all, the fear. Fear because it could only mean one thing. Victor was out. Victor was free. And Victor was c

To his wife’s claim that human beings could not be trusted to manage their own creations, Shelley argued that disease and disaster could be eradicated by human ingenuity. In her novel, Prometheus (Frankenstein) destroys everyone he loves. In his poem, Prometheus saves the world.

“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.

“So where is he? I know you didn’t actually let him go?” “Of course not.” Victor smiled. “I put him back for the night.” “That’s cold.” Victor shrugged, and took a sip. “I’ll let him out in the morning to run his errand.

Victor wanted something, too. He wanted to watch Eli bleed.

But what fascinated Victor most was the fact that something about Eli was decidedly wrong. He was like one of those pictures full of small errors, the kind you could only pick out by searching the image from every angle, and even then, a few always slipped by. On the surface, Eli seemed perfectly normal, but now and then Victor would catch a crack,