scream. Human females cried. And, at times, human
males. But not this female.
Both her silence and her odd movements piqued
Dagan’s curiosity.
Her head bobbed like a buoy in choppy water. Up.
Down. He could hear the distinct rasp of each breath,
more scrape than sob, accompanied by a muted grinding.
What the hell was she doing? From this position, he
couldn’t tell.
She paused, shifted a bit to one side and rolled her
shoulder up against her cheek to push back the long,
corkscrew strands of her hair. Then she dipped her
head and went back to her task. The grinding resumed,
and he realized that she was gnawing at the rope with
her teeth, making a play for freedom.
A flicker of interest ignited. It appeared that despite
the desperation of her circumstances her spirit was tattered but not crushed.
A fighting spirit.
Something to be admired.
He blinked, startled by the thought. She was none
of his concern. He was here to harvest and kill.
But not her.
The prey he sought had a tarnished soul, one
smeared with the worst sort of slime, the accumulated
malfeasance and malady of a lifetime. Nothing less
EVE SILVER
13
would satisfy dear old Dad. Sutekh, the Lord of Chaos.
He dined only on malevolence and vice. Evil was the
delicacy he craved.
