“Those two words became a silent dirge Marcus marched to as he carried the man to the bobby’s direction. He couldn’t convince the man to accompany him, and it was all he could do to get the bobby to lay the cloak-covered device on his burden’s chest so it could be transported back as well. The man. He was no longer the man, but rather a nightmare made of bone and flesh. He didn’t look old enough to be a nightmare. Despite the streak in his hair, the man… no… Robin Harris… couldn’t have been more... than thirty-five. Far too young to be the Society’s Mad Terror… its Toymaker… the architect of its mechanical killing machines. The man who thought up the skitter that killed his father. No, Marcus decided as he looked down at the man’s face. They were of the same age. The Society had fallen almost twenty years ago, torn apart by the Queen’s armies and its supporters scattered to the winds. The man he held was too young. He would have been in his early teens during the turmoil brought on by the Society’s Golems and mechanical monsters.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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