Death and betrayal await!  And another narrow escape…  Go to Channillo.com to check it out.  Here’s a snippet:


He exited the building, morning sunlight casting a soft glow in the east.  The darkened buildings nearby were nothing but silhouettes against a painted flat backdrop, the few people on the street an August Edouart arrangement in black.  Thirteen stood in the doorway for a few seconds to admire the stark elegance of his surroundings, then shoved gloved hands in his pockets and descended the steps to the sidewalk.

This task had been as pointless as he had earlier suspected, but there had been no arguing with the Others.  They required he cover all avenues, and the police department had been first on his list.  With the FBI already involved, it was clear to him that all the evidence from Mr. Montgomery’s apartment would be kept in their offices, but he had to admit there was a minuscule possibility it had been stored here.

The Others had their talons deep into the Bureau, and did not need him there.  Physical evidence would soon disappear—if it hadn’t already—and electronic records would go with them.  That left any physical records that might still be located on site at the CDC where Montgomery worked, which was Thirteen’s next task.

It will have to wait, he thought, preferring the cover of night for his work.  Doing these things in the light of day always ended in death, and Thirteen had seen far too much of that over the long years in service to the Others.  They value life so little, and individual lives not at all.

He knew them as little more than voices in his head, he often wondered if that was all they really were, but the device in his pocket told him otherwise.  Thirteen felt for the thing in his pocket, and wrapped it in a tight fist.  It was real—he could hold it—and it was not something he could have made for himself.  The skills were beyond him.  They were beyond everyone he had ever known, and he had only been trained in its use—never its inner workings.  He felt the warmth of the thing through his gloves, but that heat faded as he walked away from the building.  It would soon grow colder than even the air around it, waiting for its next use.

As will I, he thought.

A car, dark as night, pulled to a stop beside him, and he opened the door and folded in.  He didn’t bother speaking a destination, as there was no driver.  The car slid silently away from the curb, taking him to a place where he could wait for the dark to once again overtake the day.

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