Opera tower for sale5/11/2023 ![]() His hair renewed itself, growing forward, first tinting the rondure of his skull, as if some invisible being were coloring Uncle Morgan's head, then covering it. As he came he did his own werewolf number, changing from Morgan Sloat, investor, land speculator, and sometime Hollywood agent, into Morgan of Orris, pretender to the throne of a dying Queen. Jack stood, paralyzed, as Sloat bulled his way through the hole between the two universes. Gobbets of flesh began to rain down around Jack. Blood flew in a needle-spray of droplets. It struck one of the cow-sheep caught in the reedy muck on the other side of the stream and the unfortunate beast simply exploded, as if it had swallowed dynamite. Morgan started forward, his face swimming and rippling as if made of limp plastic, and Jack had time to see there was something clutched in his hand, something hung around his neck, something small and silvery.īlue fire arched over Jack's shoulder, sizzling-it was like a deadly electric rainbow. And in the center, looking like an extra in a film about Admiral Byrd's assault on the South Pole, was Morgan Sloat, his thick red face twisted with murderous rage. The snout of what looked like a Chevrolet pick-up truck was on the right, floating three feet above the field where he and Wolf had been sitting peacefully and talking not five minutes ago. The edge of the brick toilet was on the left side of that blistered, tortured patch of air. ![]() ![]() He was seeing it as if through ripply, badly made glass. and directly into the rest area on I-70 near Lewisburg, Ohio. Panting, his soaked hair hanging in his eyes, Jack looked over his shoulder. The parka wavered, disappeared for a moment, then came back as a cloak and hood. That's it, he's gone, must be, let him go, get out of here. He could feel the force of that command, gripping his face with invisible hands, trying to turn it.Īnd the small silver thing in his hand had turned to a small rod tipped with crawling blue fire.
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