CHAPTER 42After wandering around in the fog for what seemed like forever—but was closer to five minutes—Mara lost her sense of direction. She couldn’t locate Ping, and she concluded that the Aphotis had escaped, since there was no sooty mist hovering around her. She sensed the colorless fog dissipating, though it was hard to tell now that the sun had dropped behind the manor, and the deepening shadows made it all the more obscure. Her palms grew damp holding the lightbulb and sample container she’d gotten from the other Ping.
A lisping baritone intoned from the obscurity. “History doesn’t repeat itself, but it certainly does echo it. Wouldn’t you say?” Juaquin Prado walked from the clouds ahead. He held Ping by an arm twisted behind his back.
“More like old dogs never learn new tricks,”
