The door opened and a bald guy wearing a pullover and sunglasses walked through. Tall, and broad shouldered, with a square jaw, he had the air of a repo man. Behind him was a kid of maybe fifteen or sixteen. He had long blond hair pulled back in a ponytail, and was dressed in a costume that matched the house; ruffled shirt, brocade vest, and tight fitting trousers. Despite his fine features and his age, the air around him vibrated with something terrifying.
The blond sat in a chair behind the desk and crossed his legs, his eyes on his prisoner. Something glinted in their depths that made Patrick's blood run cold. He was sure he saw death shining in them.
My death.
Silence stretched while they stared at one another. Patrick waited for the mental crush he'd encountered with Jorick and Oren, but……
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