Wed 10 Mar 2010
A preview extract, with exclusive art by Malcolm Harrison
words (c) Sam Enthoven / visuals (c) Malcolm Harrison 2010. All rights reserved.
Mr Miller shrieked – a short, high note, his voice driven to that pitch by absolute terror.
The shriek stopped.
Then I spoke through his mouth.
‘I . . . like this one, Steadman.’ The words were husky and thick at first as I worked the unfamiliar vocal cords. ‘He’s young. Healthy. Much better than the sickly things you usually bring me.’
‘A treat for you, my Queen,’ said Steadman. ‘And he’s just the first of many. As of now, you no longer have to make do with those dregs I can steal from the streets without anyone noticing. As of this moment, you can take anyone you want.’ He paused, then said: ‘You are free.’
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