The girl’s gaze met his in interested inquiry. She backed away, amazed as the thing buzzed loudly in the center of the room. “It isn’t only the dance,” she said. He tore his gaze away, aware of the quickening of his heartbeat. Be so good as to let me pass, sir,” she added, looking her obstructor steadily in the face. He stood there, large and dark, enunciating, in his clear voice from beneath his large mustache, clear flat sentences, deliberately kindly. Rhea’s head exploded into a spray of blood, brain, and bone. A few yards further off something grey, inert, was lying, a huddled-up heap of humanity twisted into a strange unnatural shape.
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