The Fury and the Terror Read Online Free PDF Page B

around! What the hell else could she be up to? You've got to control her."
    But they were at their limits, pushing drugs into Cheng's system; there was nothing else in the pharmacopeia that didn't carry a huge risk of speeding her quickly and stone-cold to the afterlife. And, in spite of her long-standing relationship with Zephyr, Darkfeather knew very well what consequences the Avatar's death would have for her.
    The problem wasn't only Kelane Cheng. Darkfeather had time to reflect on that dilemma as the TRANSPAC DC-10 flew on into the sun.
    There was Kelane's doppelganger, that scary presence in the remote forest of western Maui. Did the Avatar have enough mental energy in her present state to animate her dpg again? And if she'd already done so, where was it now? Dpg's in their natural state only showed up when exposed to black light. The dpg could be sitting opposite Darkfeather, unseeable if she were naked. Or forward, paying a little visit to the flight deck, brimming with feline curiosity and perhaps—it was the common flaw in even the most intelligent doppelgangers—mischief.
    They had black light aboard. And Darkfeather had her Persian kitty. Anywhere in the vicinity of a doppelganger Warhol would throw a three-alarm fit. She had decided it would be a good idea to search the plane when she received an urgent call from the captain.
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    (From Eden Waring's dreambook, #2)
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    I m on the iland again. Where the Good Lady says Im safe from the Bad Souls they cant come here she says I can see them out there in the fog but not very well thats good they make scarry noiz and call to me saying how much better it is where they are but don't believe that the Good Lady always tells me because they only want to change me just ignore them she says and holds me Its so warm and breezy there on the iland when shes holding me I dont hear Bad Souls any more I want to stay forever but the Good Lady says oh no what about your lessons and I tell her forth grade is easy even if I did skip the third grade but she says not the lessons I mean now its time I have sprise for you darling then shes gone and nothing else much happens except for this girl my age I see making a sand cassel down the beach I don't know if thats the sprise she doesnt say anything when I ask what her name is goes on pushing up wet sand and patting it with her hands making walls and I say can I help she still wont say anything so I start wurking too on the sand cassel too and it feels funny when she looks at me because I know her then it feels funnier than ever because I ask is she my sister she says no Im you look the boat's here time to do your next lesson and I say what lesson and she says Im your next lesson youll see that is so dum I realy hate this dream its the snipedist dream I ever had

CHAPTER 4
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    HONOLULU, HAWAII • MAY 28 • 6:14 A.M. HDT
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    R ona Harvester woke up early in the eight-room Presidential Suite of whatever-hotel-it-was, disoriented at first blink, as if she'd rolled over to find herself in an alternate universe. The drapes were drawn but some heavy rollers were pounding Waikiki. The sound of surf awakening nostalgia for her vagabond days at Stimson, Maverick's, and the community of big-wave surfers in Santa Cruz. Friends like Trey and Reg and Havens, the transplanted Kansan who became one of the legends and was gobbled by a thirty-footer at Maverick's when a surface chop launched him from his board.
    Shortly after the return of the MORG helos from Maui, a squall had hit the area. The limo hurried her back from Hickam AFB in blinding rain. Only one limo instead of the usual four with dozens of cops to provide a rolling roadblock along the streets. In that same limo she had been smuggled out of the hotel hours earlier, after her official retirement time of eleven-thirty P.M. Back entrance to the hotel sealed off by the MORG Praetorians who, at Rona's request, had replaced her Secret Service detail early in her husband's