Chapter Eighteen Parley Kathy sat quietly picking at her muffin, not really eating so much as slowly grazing. The sun had just come up, but she'd been too worried to remain in her rented bed at the Phoenix Inn. Sleep had been fitful, filled with horrid visions of violence, bloodshed. At one point in her dreams, Kathy found herself standing at the foot of a set of stone steps, leading up to a blackened walnut throne, the steps smeared with drying blood. On the throne, legs draped over one arm, eased in the seat of power like a fool, sat a raven-headed man in a black-and-white checkerboard zoot suit. Its eyes, disturbingly human, goggled as a bizarre warbling sound filled the air. Kathy recognized it as someone playing a saw like a zither.
For your security, we need to re-authenticate you.
Click the link we sent to , or click here to log in.