Deathstalker 06 - Deathstalker Legacy

in his chair, and sometimes think about just how badly he'd screwed up his life. All the things he once took for granted, all the things he used to live for; all the honorable underpinnings of his existence had been swept away, and he didn't know what to do anymore. He had betrayed his best and truest friend. Not physically, perhaps, but in his heart. He loved Jesamine Flowers, the woman, not the star, but she was going to be Douglas's bride, and Queen to the Empire, and even to love her in silence and from a distance was a kind of treason. He'd never thought love, when it finally came along, would be like this. A pain he couldn't bear, a need he couldn't ease, a woman he couldn't have. Dishonor and disgrace. But then, that was Deathstalker luck for you. Always bad.
    Ask Owen. Ask Hazel. Wherever they were.
    Lewis sighed, deeply, and looked slowly around his room for something to do, something to interest him, for a while at least. So he wouldn't have to think, or feel. He supposed he could go and unpack his belongings, but he couldn't seem to work up the energy. It wasn't as if there was anything important in the crate. He'd never been one to collect.. . things. Never had the time, or the interest. His work was his life.
    Or at least, it used to be. His eyes drifted on, across the empty room, and he wondered how he could have lived so long, and still have so little to show for it. His gaze finally settled on his computer terminal and monitor, sitting on the floor by the single polarized window. He supposed he should check to see if there were any messages. It wouldn't be anything important. Anything that mattered would come through his comm implant. But there might be something. Something to occupy him.
    He rose slowly, tiredly, from his chair, like an old man, and walked over to squat down on the floor before the terminal. He hit the message function, and the screen lit up. Just the one message today, from the fan who ran his tribute site. Lewis frowned. Tim Highbury didn't usually bother him directly unless it was something important. Maybe he'd tracked down some new bootleg operation, making money off Lewis's name and reputation. Lewis always shut them down. He took his good name seriously. Besides, the last set of knockoff action figures had looked nothing like him. He made the connection, called Tim's private number, and the monitor screen immediately cleared to show the face of his truest fan and supporter. It was a young face, barely out of his teens, but Tim had been running the tribute site with frightening enthusiasm and efficiency ever since he was fourteen. Lewis smiled at him. It was good to know there were still some things he could depend on.
    "Hello, Tim. Good to hear from you. What's up? Running short of funds at last?"
    "No," said Tim. "It's not that." His voice was high and uncertain, and he couldn't seem to meet Lewis's eyes. "It's not the money, Lewis. It was never about the money. You know that. But I'm afraid . . . I'm going to have to shut down the site. Your site. In fact, it's already done. I'm sorry."
    Lewis just stared at him, lost for words. He wasn't sure how he felt about no longer having his own tribute site. On the one hand, he'd never been entirely comfortable with having a site at all; it encouraged too much of the fannish adoration he'd always found so embarrassing. But on the other hand ... if there was one person he'd thought he'd always be able to rely on, it was Tim Highbury. Tim had always believed in him, understood him; stood between Lewis and the obsessives who would otherwise have made his life a misery. Before Tim had come along, Lewis had had to employ a screening system for his calls, and change his address every six months, to be sure of getting some privacy. And now . . . there was something odd about the way Tim was acting. He looked . . . not so much upset, as ... disappointed.
    "What is it, Tim? What's happened? Has someone been putting pressure on you, over the site?"
    "No! It's not that. Well, not exactly. It's just ... it isn't the same anymore. People don't feel the same about you. Not since the Neuman not. It's all changed. It isn't fun anymore. I'm sure you'll find someone else to take over the site. Run it for you. For people who still believe in you. I'm sorry. I can't do it anymore. I have to go now. Good-bye."
    His voice was all over the place. He was almost crying when he finally shut down the connection from his end. Lewis stared at the blank screen,