I've Got To Get Rid Of The Body. "Ivan?" I simply had to repeat it. I knew I heard her just fine. If Morgan said Ivan's name, she meant him. She hadn't met him before now. He had been the presence that night. I understood this. Sort of. A portion of my brain did at any rate. It even marveled at his cunning. The fuck-head assassin vampire knew all along that Morgan and I had buried the body of the prince in the woods. He knew it to be a fact. Everything else had been a bonus for him. His questions, threats, bullying and torment - it had all been part of a game for him. He'd played me like a well-tuned harp from the start. A sick Machiavellian torture for the half-breed. I imagined him laughing - laughing - right now while I lay on the floor of my own office, throat nearly crushed, struggling to breathe. Part of my brain did understand this. A small part. Most of it simply screamed. Loudly.
