Page 16 of The Black Dragon
The stench of slick blood lingered in his nostrils.This is the workplace where Leo and his nutcase assistant drained my magick, stuck needles into my scales andthen…
Breathing deeply, he tried tobanish the memory of the knife digging into his skin, the screams that he’d desperately tried tosuppress.
The agent was burbling now. “I do love this modern, compact office. Mr. Harrington had some kind of workshop down there for the longesttime.”
And a cell, where he torturedme.
“I’ve seen enough,” he muttered, and headed for the stairs. “Can you take some photos forme?”
Upstairs, he bolted into the nearest bathroom and vomited. Wiping his mouth with a paper napkin designed with bright butterflies, he stared into themirror.
“You are no longer that prisoner.” With a shaky hand, he touched the glossy surface of hisreflection.
Justin tucked a stick of fruity chewing gum into his mouth to disguise the smell of vomit and sprayed the bathroomwith the airdeodorizer.
Never again. The day he became a prisoner again, he woulddie.
