She
could tell his footsteps from the way they were aided by his cane.
Every step was punctuated by a sharp tap on the concrete floor.
Minty hoped her body would shut down, blank out anything that might
be coming – but her mind was suddenly awake with possibilities, and
her eye went from a sluggish flicker to a solid green glow.
He
stepped into the room, his entourage at his heels, his cane in his
hand, his mask on his face. He waved his minions away with a gloved
hand.
A
million images poured through Minty's head, and on the sidelines, the
thought that she'd never known him like this, never heard his
footsteps, shouted for attention. She hoped that her arms would
shatter; she pictured herself running, armless, for the exit,
fighting off her captors with the shards of broken porcelain that
remained. Maybe the warehouse would shatter with her and the glass
would cut him down.
“So,”
said Voss, his voice as crystalline and perfect as it had always
been. “Here we are.”
Her
eye whirred as it focused on him, in his white suit, leaning on his
cane.
“You
know it's been a long time coming,” he said, stepping forward.
Step, tap. “And, the truth is,” step, tap. “Even
without our history, I would have come for you sooner or later. Step.
Tap. “They're all excited, you know. You have white Dust.”
She could feel his breath on her now. He stepped even closer, so
that they were almost touching. “I know the truth,” he
told her. “Too much Dust in one place, might cause some problems,
but this—” and this seemed to mean his leg, his
mask and everything and everyone that had ever hurt him. “This
isn't just Dust. This is—I know what colour your Dust is,
and believe me when I say, I will have all of it. I'm going
to keep you alive for a long time, Minty. I'm going to drain you of
every last grain.” He got closer, too close for her to see,
his head next to hers, the cool metal of his mask pressed against her
cheek, his breath seeping into her ear. “And in the meantime...
you can't imagine the fun I'm going to have.”
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