Versim Read Online Free PDF Page B

looked at the cash in his hand, as if he might ask Hark how to pay for it. “Yeah, I got it. It’s on me.” Frankie headed for the door.
    Hark reached out and stopped him. “Don’t tell a soul. Not about me, about the money, about her. Don’t mention the hotel room. Clear?” Frankie’s eyes were wide, suddenly fearful. Hark almost lifted him off his feet. “Tell me you understand this isn’t a game.”
    “Yo, man, I got it. Chill.”
    Hark shut the door on Frankie as a news show on the TV caught his attention. He pretended to ignore it by turning to Celia, but he caught the headline of a round-table discussion show: NYC Predator: the Work of One Man or Many ? Celia began to ask about that box and how it made the money while he listened to pundits examine a few incidents of random killings in public places. The major world news outlets had picked it up. The Times was reporting the events were the work of a single psychopath. Celia had calmed enough for her to listen to his story about black-ops’ government hardware and how there was all sorts of stuff out there she wouldn’t believe. He couldn’t tell her the truth, of course. At least not yet.
    What bothered him, though, was that his clues were still vague. First the serial killer, which was a standard trope in horror Rend-Vs. Then the Voxyprog sign, which shouldn’t have been there at all, which meant a radical element might be at work. Add to the mix Tripp and Krista’s arrival with news Hark had immersed illegally and that he was being directed to protect the Rend-V’s hidden host …
    Celia sat back on the bed, legs straight, and leaned against the headboard. “That pizza smells good. I never had lunch.”
    “There’re a few slices still in the box.” Hark set two pieces on the lid and placed it on the bed. “Eat up.”
    “What’s your name?” she asked, as she fingered one of the pieces.
    “Harken Cole,” he said instinctively.
    I just told her my real name, he thought. What the heck is going on? Even though I’m illegal, there should still be a major block on me saying that. I’m not in character. No direction. No idea what the narrative tropes are. I’m playing myself. That breaks every versim rule out there. Why am I doing this?
    She pulled her phone out. “I can’t believe it’s not working.”
    Her hands began to tremble. She almost dropped the phone. Then Celia Preston turned away toward a corner, pulled a pillow over her head, and cried quietly. Hark moved to the bed and considered placing a comforting hand on her back.  
    Since he wasn’t here officially, that meant he wasn’t a principal character scripted into the drama by the Rend-V’s producers and directors. He was here for another reason (even though he had no idea who sent him or why). What he did know was that this host had been peacefully immersed for twenty years and someone now wanted to kill her. But she didn’t know she was a host, of course, and if she died while inside …
      He placed his hand on her back and tapped a few times, discreetly, letting her know he was there if she needed him. He was able to calm her enough that she sat up.
    “Tough times being a celebrity?” he asked, hoping to get her to talk away some of her fear.
    “You don’t know the half of it. What did my sister tell you?”
    “Nothing, just that you needed protecting.” Another lie, he thought. I have no idea who her sister is or what problems Celia has. I shouldn’t feel guilty about this, but I do.  
    “I’ve had a few stalkers. But, my career is in the can. I’m getting too old to dance the way I used to. The roles I get are all horrible. I’m being paid less. It’s as if the world wants to keep me in a little corner that keeps shrinking.” She reached out and touched his gloved hand. The Skinsuit looked like another dermal layer, but of black scales the size of sequins that glittered in the light. “More government gear?” Her finger lingered on his hand, and he could