He couldn’t move. Frozen. Heart slamming into his ribs.
“Ah,” Sterling said, supremely unconcerned, “hey, there you are, it’s been a seriously long time for some of you, hasn’t it? Let me see what I can do about that…”
Night redoubled. Presences loomed. Every wall, every crevice, became home to uncanny glimmers; Dan’s apartment, once familiar, surrendered itself to gloom.
“Oh, come on.” This time Sterling sounded more amused. “You’re just doing what’s expected, aren’t you, with all that? Well, why areyou, then? Aren’t you still yourselves? Independent enough not to bother with playing the role? Come talk to me.” His fingers shifted, nestled into herbs and blood. His eyes got brighter: more silver, less grey, sparkly in a different and less human manner.
One of the shadows, a spiky ball like a deep-sea fish from lightless oceans, came over and sat on his foot. Right next to Dan’s foot. Okay. That was happening. That was possible. Dan tried to remember to breathe.