Fatalis: A Novel
jún. 2000 · St. Martin's Press
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Um þessa rafbók
The two luminescent eyes watched the long, deserted roadway from low on the gusty promontory. Moist and dark, like large oily pearls, the eyes shifted and widened almost imperceptibly at every movement a hundred feet below. They roamed among the dim lights and deep shadows, the tall waves of the sea beyond, the dark beach, the large sea animals that broke the surface in the distance, the night birds that soared and hovered above the rocks, the flat clouds, the misty raindrops, the signposts rattling in the wind.
Most of these things were familiar; a few were not. But new or old, it was a world of constant movement, a world where any motion could be enemy or prey. Which was why the eyes missed nothing. Nor did the ears, which were shaped like gold tulip petals...
It froze as the scent came suddenly, from the north...The black eyes were met by other black eyes and they all began to move...Quickly and silently they slid through the brush and stones...commanding the foothills simply by moving through them. The smell of the prey was different, the speed was greater than they had seen, but the size was familiar.
They knew just what to do.
--From Fatalis
Most of these things were familiar; a few were not. But new or old, it was a world of constant movement, a world where any motion could be enemy or prey. Which was why the eyes missed nothing. Nor did the ears, which were shaped like gold tulip petals...
It froze as the scent came suddenly, from the north...The black eyes were met by other black eyes and they all began to move...Quickly and silently they slid through the brush and stones...commanding the foothills simply by moving through them. The smell of the prey was different, the speed was greater than they had seen, but the size was familiar.
They knew just what to do.
--From Fatalis
Einkunnir og umsagnir
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Jeff Rovin is the author of Vespers.
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