A tense moment, redux
Keeping things nice and easy, here’s a second one:
Angel sat back in her chair, watching the Russian pace the dark and somehow monstrous terrace in his hideously antique clothing. Outside, the eldritch wind howled, bringing to her mind the mindless piping of flutes at the universe’s dark heart, where nameless shambling things dance to the unspeakable throbbing of drums. Not in vain had she perused those books kept under lock and key in the hidden cellar of her university, and well did she know that the price of this evening’s transaction could be high indeed.
As the swarthy and sin-pitted man gained the room once more, his skin rugose and squamous, a dark cloud fell across the sky, and the wind gusted sickeningly. In halting words, his voice soft and hollow, he explained that his dealings with those outside had been successful. Hesitantly, Angel asked if it was then true, if she could pass on the book that had haunted her since she found it among her ancestors’ papers, in return for the peace of mind she most treasured.
With a smile that was gentle but somehow mocking, the foreigner replied: “Yes.”
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