Quicksand - Part 5

A man in a silver fox mask and a white suit sat on a high throne – Well, it wasn't a throne exactly, it was a huge pile of boxes with a drop sheet draped over them. 

Craven Lorne paced around on the floor below him. “I've got her where I want her.” His voice was confident, certain, even, but the way he moved told more truth. There was obviously something bothering him.

The man on the boxes said nothing.

“Do you know, she doesn't even care that I'm going to kill her?” Craven said, after a brief pause. There was no indignation in his voice; he sounded like he was sharing an amusing but impossible anecdote. He seemed to have forgotten that her total unconcern for his intentions didn't qualify her as being right where he wanted her. “Of course, why should she care? She has every reason to believe herself as worthless as we both know her to be. After all—Voss, you look cold. Would you like me to get you something hot?”

The other man waved a gloved hand dismissively and shook his head.

“You will let me know if you change your mind?”

Voss nodded, almost imperceptibly.

“I can get someone to bring you something back, if you're in the mood.”

“No,” Voss said.

Voss spoke very rarely to Craven Lorne and never to anyone else. For Craven, hearing Voss' voice was a sign of approval and he relished it.

 If you enjoyed reading this, stop by next week for another instalment. You may also like my published novel, Aigaion Girl ... a story of the end of days, available here.