Now Sands took the memory out, carefully examined it, then resealed it. He
would survive this. He assumed he had convinced Viscalli to eliminate
Jacob and ally himself with Sands, but nothing had happened yet.
Settling down for the long wait as Viscalli's prisoner which, he supposed, was meant to demoralize him, he focused again on sounds. Footsteps, at least three pair, were walking on a stone staircase not too far away. He glued his attention to those footsteps as they continued toward him. Turning his dark head and blowing the hair out of his eyes, Sands looked at the door and waited, trepidation mixing with dread. He countered with his mantra. "I throw shapes. I throw shapes," he mouthed silently now. The door opened. Viscalli entered first, Jacob at his heels, and unexpectedly a wizen Chinese thrall, who looked nearly a hundred. The feeble creature carried with him a bundle. Something licked at Sands' awareness, something vile that made his skin crawl. A coldness emanated from that bundle.
At a flick of Viscalli's hand, the thrall went to the small credenza behind Sands' head and out of view. Jacob circled Sands' table, a little smile playing on his face, one Sands wanted to claw off at the first possible moment. What had happened to Viscalli to turn him against him, Sands wondered. He thought he had fed him enough crap to win him over, but the towering vampire looked cold, almost indifferent as he gazed down. A blue fire burned in Viscalli's eyes as his pale gaze locked with Sands' own dark one. "You thought to play me." Viscalli stated. "But there was a vital piece of information you lacked." His lips rose in the slightest hint of a smile. "I have a talent I share with one of your friends, it would seem, and I thought I was alone, of all of us, with this special talent." He leaned in closer to Sands, his lips almost brushing the younger vampire's earlobe. "It has kept me alive all this time, Sands. It will keep me alive when the rest of you are dust." 'Not good,' Sands thought. He had no idea what this 'talent' was, but it was obvious he would not be watching Jacob die any time soon.
"Tell me, Sands, how do you like the touch of silver?" Jacob asked, a smirk on his face.
Now Sands knew what the thrall had carried in. 'Not good at all,' he thought.
Settling down for the long wait as Viscalli's prisoner which, he supposed, was meant to demoralize him, he focused again on sounds. Footsteps, at least three pair, were walking on a stone staircase not too far away. He glued his attention to those footsteps as they continued toward him. Turning his dark head and blowing the hair out of his eyes, Sands looked at the door and waited, trepidation mixing with dread. He countered with his mantra. "I throw shapes. I throw shapes," he mouthed silently now. The door opened. Viscalli entered first, Jacob at his heels, and unexpectedly a wizen Chinese thrall, who looked nearly a hundred. The feeble creature carried with him a bundle. Something licked at Sands' awareness, something vile that made his skin crawl. A coldness emanated from that bundle.
At a flick of Viscalli's hand, the thrall went to the small credenza behind Sands' head and out of view. Jacob circled Sands' table, a little smile playing on his face, one Sands wanted to claw off at the first possible moment. What had happened to Viscalli to turn him against him, Sands wondered. He thought he had fed him enough crap to win him over, but the towering vampire looked cold, almost indifferent as he gazed down. A blue fire burned in Viscalli's eyes as his pale gaze locked with Sands' own dark one. "You thought to play me." Viscalli stated. "But there was a vital piece of information you lacked." His lips rose in the slightest hint of a smile. "I have a talent I share with one of your friends, it would seem, and I thought I was alone, of all of us, with this special talent." He leaned in closer to Sands, his lips almost brushing the younger vampire's earlobe. "It has kept me alive all this time, Sands. It will keep me alive when the rest of you are dust." 'Not good,' Sands thought. He had no idea what this 'talent' was, but it was obvious he would not be watching Jacob die any time soon.
"Tell me, Sands, how do you like the touch of silver?" Jacob asked, a smirk on his face.
Now Sands knew what the thrall had carried in. 'Not good at all,' he thought.