The catwalk allowed us a vantage
point that wasn’t available, otherwise. We crept up until we could look down
over a wide spot in the production line—I thought that this was a fish-packing
plant. Below were two groups of people, one decidedly larger than the other,
one decidedly less human than the other. The greenish-white lights were
hovering orbs of green-white fire that bobbed slightly near the inhuman part of
the group. The lights allowed me to easily pick out the tall, gaunt, and
thoroughly ordinary-looking Mr. Daniels, the wight, where he stood next to an
open carry-on. But instead of a normal interior, this had been decked out for jewelery.
Specifically, the pendants. I didn’t recognize the young man in front of him,
but he held open a zip-topped bag with at least a dozen more pendants in it.
Daniels reached into the zip-topped bag and
extracted a pendant almost reverently. He closed his eyes and, after a moment
of concentration, he smiled.
That’s not good. Wights don’t
feel any emotion. They steal it from others, so I was right. Those things steal
memory, but also the emotions with them. This is an elaborate scheme to supply
wights with an unlimited supply of emotion. This bastard stole some of my
memories, too. Tiny holes in a lot of different memories. Names, faces,
details, and feelings are just gone right in the middle. This guy can kill me
as quick as Nikki or any of the others, which means I need a healthy fear of
him, but I also want to stick him through a sausage grinder. What he does to
people is just . . . monstrous. He should be ended. And here he is—
Nikki took my hand, it was cool,
which felt welcome in the stifling humidity of the warehouse.
She bent close to my ear, barely
whispering. “Calm, Matthew. The fear and anger you feel is strong enough for me
to sense. You do not want to risk him becoming aware of our presence.”
She’s
got a really good point.