Devouring The Dead (Book 2): Nemesis - Plot & Excerpts
“It’s good stuff, Harry. Sixteen years old. Just how I like ‘em,” laughed Lazarus. Harry gave a half-hearted smile, but was in no mood for company, especially that of a deranged, murderous psychopath. “Come now, Harry, I’m sorry about your friend, but you have to know, once the infection has gotten hold of you there’s no way back. I’m afraid it was for the best. You wouldn’t have wanted your friend to turn into one of those things, would you? He wasn’t the first and he won’t be the last. One death is a tragedy, one million is a statistic.” “No, er, of course not. It’s just hard to accept, you know.” Every muscle in Harry’s body told him to get out. Glenda and Jackson were dead and here he was sitting in the man’s home, drinking whisky with their murderer. He had been forced to put a blade in Jackson’s head and he would never forget it. Harry looked across at the sword leaning against the wall.
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