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as thin and hooked as a vulture's beak and a host of exotic tattoos that covered the ebony skin like ancient graffiti on the walls of a soot-streaked cave. |
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Before Cyrus could give warning, the head's glacial eyes popped open and blinked several times. Then the head grinned. "Greetings, little sister." |
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Paula coughed until it sounded like her lungs were tearing loose, and then she began gulping air. Cyrus steadied the witch as she recovered enough to make a series of signs in the air with two sharply pointed fingers. The face flickered briefly like a TV set during an electrical storm, but the image remained. |
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"Now, is that any way to greet a colleague?" the Dark Man asked. "I see you are not alone. I recognize Ms. Rand, so I presume this must be Mr. Trigg?" |
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When no one spoke, the head continued. "Little sister, it is impolite to meddle in the affairs of others. Especially in the affairs of one powerful enough to cause you harm." |
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The Dark Man's eyes were round and black like two holes in the fabric of night. They wandered over the room aimlessly and never seemed to settle on anything. Cyrus wanted to ask Paula if such a thing could actually see them, but he took his cue from her and remained both silent and very, very still. |
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"Perhaps you doubt me?" The visage's grin spread wider. "A demonstration, then?" |
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The bell over the front door jingled and a moment later the sound of footsteps approached the back room. |
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The curtain parted and a smiling man in a postal worker's uniform strolled into the room, his heavy mailbag causing him to roll from side to side as he walked like a sailor on the deck of a swaying ship. |
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"Paula, you've gotta sign for" |
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When the man saw Paula and the others standing frozen in the middle of the room, his shy smile of greeting turned into a look of concern. |
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