The Dark at the End

3

During the time the cow had cried hysterically over her fallen pet, Rasalom felt the strength pouring into him. Even when her vocalizations ratcheted down to quaking sobs, the grief that poured from her remained considerable.

All for a dumb animal that was, in many other countries, considered an entree.

“I’m terribly sorry for your loss,” he said when she finally quieted.

She only moaned.

“My goodness,” he said. “I hope it wasn’t my fault.”

Her head snapped up. “What do you mean?”

“Well, just before he died I gave him a piece of my turkey.”

She sniffed. “You did?”

“Yes. I hope it didn’t cause a reaction or anything. He wasn’t allergic to turkey, was he?”

“No, he ate it all the time.” She was staring at him, although he knew he was just a blur to her. “That turkey was to help you regain your strength, yet you gave him some?”

“Well, he seemed like such a sweet, loyal dog.”

She began sobbing again.

Good… good. Keep it up. More. Give me more.

“I’m so happy that-that-that his last memory was of a stranger being kind to him.”

His last memory? The cow was pathetic. That creature had been little more than a quadrupedal appetite.

She broke down again, bending over the dog, placing her cheek against its back.

As Rasalom drank, he lifted the blanket and examined his burns. Healing nicely now.

He closed his eyes and sighed as he feasted. Too bad he couldn’t bring the dog back to life-just for a few minutes, just long enough to let her believe her pet was back from the dead-and then stop its heart again.

In his previous life he’d been so much more powerful. His very proximity could cause people to turn on each other, commit atrocities they would never dream of had he not entered their lives. He’d been able to make the dead move, walk, appear almost alive, even though they were not. But Glaeken had ended that life and Rasalom had been forced to wait until his rebirth to begin rebuilding his powers.

He was not yet powerful enough to make this carcass move. He could end a life, make a life a living hell, but he couldn’t restore a life. Never could. Dead was dead.

At least until the Change. After that, who knew?