“It seemed furious at the unwanted chemical invasion. I waited for it to pass close to my retina, struggling to see its face, to know it . . . Voices cut in. ‘Is she dead?’ ‘No, but I gave her a maxi dose. She’ll be out for a while longer yet. I know what I’m doing, you know.’ ‘What about Sto?’ ‘The ’lytes she gave him helped. His strength is improving. But his feet . . . ugh.’ ‘Ugh?’ ‘Third-degree burns, blisters. Infected. It looks like he even puked on them.’ I listened intently, gradually se...parating the images of the Angel from the conversation. My head was mussed but my body felt alive, wired by the Angel’s touch. Craving more. After a while I recognised one of the two voices. The lark dealer was one. And the other was familiar . . . but somehow different. I kept my breathing light and even, and listened a bit longer. The dealer continued, ‘I’ve cleaned them up but he won’t be able to walk for a few days. And my head has felt better.’ I clobbered him, I thought with satisfaction.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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