Deathstalker 01 - Deathstalker

leper than touch any part of you. With all the drugs boiling through what's left of your system, even your sweat's probably addictive. I received your latest
    communication; I think the veil is an excellent idea. May I also suggest a muzzle and a chastity belt, because you're not getting anywhere near me. I personally will be wearing a decontamination suit and carrying an electric cattle prod instead of a bouquet."
    "I really must introduce you to my wife," said Finlay.
    "Isn't she wonderful?" said Valentine happily. "I do like a woman with spunk. We were made for each other, Beatrice. Just think what our children will be like."
    "You have a better chance of winning the Church's annual Sobriety and Good Citizenship award than you have of fathering a child on me, Valentine. I do not believe in laboratory fertilizations, and if you ever bring your disgusting parts anywhere near me, I will cram them into a blender. This is a political marriage only, Valentine. And now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go and find something really fragile and expensive that I can throw at a wall." She shot a brief glance at Finlay. "Do you have any idea what you look like? And I'd wipe that expression off your face, Finlay Campbell, if I were you, or the wind might change and you'll be stuck that way."
    And she stomped off, disappearing back into the crowd, which kept trying to get out of her way, but just weren't fast enough on their feet. Finlay realized he was holding his breath and let it out in a long sigh. He looked at Valentine, entirely lost for words, but the Wolfe heir seemed unperturbed. He flicked an invisible fleck of dust from his cuff and smiled at Finlay.
    "She'll come to appreciate my little ways. Eventually."
    Not too far away, Evangeline Shreck, tall, slender and positively waiflike in an off-the-shoulder gown, watched her beloved Finlay talking with the notorious Valentine Wolfe and felt an almost overpowering urge to rush over and rescue
    him. Or at least protect him. Valentine looked to her like nothing more than a corpse in a carnival mask, a Harlequin in heat, all that was sick and corrupt in current society. But she couldn't even go near Finlay without good cause. Even allowing for the imminent marriage that was to link the Campbells with the Shrecks, there was still much bad feeling between the two Houses. It was a miracle no one had thrown down a formal challenge yet. It would look odd at best, and suspicious at worst, if she were to just walk up to Finlay and start chatting with him. Officially, they'd only ever met in passing on occasions like this. People would raise their eyebrows and make comments. They might even ask questions. Evangeline forced herself to look away, and there was her father, standing beside her. She composed herself quickly and hoped her small involuntary start would be taken for surprise rather than guilt.
    Lord Gregor Shreck smiled at her fondly and patted her on the arm with his chubby hand: The Shreck was a short, round butterball of a man, all bulging flesh and deepset eyes, with a constant, quietly unnerving smile. It amused him to indulge himself, and he cared nothing for fashion, which in turn cared nothing for him. He was not a sociable man and as a rule avoided all gatherings he wasn't absolutely obliged to attend. He had never been popular or courted, despite his high station and prestigious connections, and he didn't give a damn.
    He had other, private concerns.
    "Can I get you a drink, my dear?" he said kindly. "Something to eat, perhaps?
    You know how it worries me when you don't eat."
    "I'm sure. Father, thank you. I don't want anything."
    The Shreck shook his head unhappily. "You must keep your strength up, my dear, or you'll waste away to skin and bone. You want to look nice for your papa, don't you?"

    The hand on her arm closed warningly tight, and she made herself smile and nod.
    It wasn't wise to make him angry. For all his surface jollity, the Shreck had a foul temper, and nasty, inventive malice. So she let him fuss over her and tried to remain as remote as she could without antagonizing him. It was a tightrope she'd gotten used to walking, but it never got any easier. The Shreck looked around at the noisily chattering crowd and scowled.
    "Look at them: happy as the day is long, and not a brain between them. Eating my food and drinking my wine, and my poor niece is still a brainburned savage, a maid to the Iron Bitch. They're happy enough to stuff their faces at