Viktor stood at the windows, watching the sun unroll its deadly blanket over the park. One morning. He’d had one morning after Cassandra had left. The sun had touched his skin, and he’d looked on it in wonder. He’d gone onto the terrace and felt the rays soak the early morning cold with warmth. Tears of joy had leaked, crimson, from his eyes, but there had been no one to share the experience with. The next morning, the sun had burned him. He held out his hand, longing to feel the touch of the light through the window for just a moment. His skin blistered and cracked, smoke wafting from the fissure that widened under the golden light. His reflection, pale white hair and skin, squinted back at him like a sickly ghost. He hit the button to close the shades and turned. Stephanie, his new assistant, stood silently at the bottom of the stairs. Waiting, like a work-hungry vulture. “Is there anything I can assist you with, Mr. Novotny? Do you need your infusion?” Without Anthony, Viktor had been forced to make some difficult changes.
