![]() ![]() Where do I know it from? Come here, little bird. ![]() ” He took a step toward the desk, his footfalls silent as a predatory cat’s. ![]() Out of my peripheral vision, I saw the open archive on my mainframe, proof positive that I was snooping where I shouldn’t, but the thought of him remembering that awful day at my Secondary graduation pinned me to the spot as if I were some Donor, splayed out for his enjoyment. Suddenly I could think of nothing more terrifying he could possibly have said. And I felt it in every bone of my body as Victor looked at me. All these things compounded to make me feel inadequate. My skin was insufficiently moisturized, my dark hair a little frizzy in its bun, my breath probably not at its freshest, my makeup (also cheap) applied with a shaky, tired hand. The eggplant color was off, a little too bright in this elegant cloud-crested cathedral. It was my scratchy polyester dress, the cheap blend so common in the Undertown shops, because few humans besides Donors could afford better. I suddenly felt very out of place, not just because I was a human among Vampyrs, or a spy among the faithful-though all those things were true, and added to my fear. His head tilted to the side, like a bird assessing a worm. ![]() I watched the back of his head as he glanced upward, sniffed once at the air, then turned slowly away from Heron’s desk. Victor rose one spindly finger into the air to silence her. ![]()
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