Prologue
136 Words
Prologue
Death wore a dinner suit.
His manners were perfect. Murder made sophisticated conversation while dancing the quickstep. He was light on his feet.
Annie Besant shuddered and closed her eyes. How clearly she saw the spreading crimson stain on the starched white dress shirt. That much was revealed… but no more. She surveyed the room. So many immaculately tailored men—all dashing, some charming, at least one was dangerous.
An old woman now, her celebrated clairvoyance was not what it once had been. The foresight was vague, useless for anything but tormenting her with a premonition of violence. The feeling was furtive, an occasional glimpse of a deep predatory darkness that lurked amongst the gaiety and cultured frivolity of the floating palace. A cold creeping certainty that one of the elegant gentlemen who gathered to dine, intended to kill.
- Writer
