Deathstalker 07 - Deathstalker Return

and his tongue.
    Said they were delicacies. Then they let me go. I ran. That was two hours ago. I went home and cleaned myself up, but I still feel dirty. I didn't know what to do! I couldn't go to Finn. They're his people. They're allowed to do anything. And then I thought of you. You're the only one left I can trust. The last real Paragon. The only one who might be able to do something."
    "Dear God," said Emma, too shocked even to be sickened. "What happened to them out there, on their quest? What did they find that could have changed them so much?" She shook her head slowly, and then looked firmly at Stuart, putting a steadying hand on his shoulder. "I'll look into this. You go home. Lock the door and stay there. No one has to know you've talked to me. In the meantime, stay away from the Sangreal, and from Finn."
    "I cant."
    "Come on, Stuart. Surely you can see now what kind of a man he is. He's no good for you."
    "But I love him," said Stuart Lennox, bitterly, helplessly. "I love him."
    Emma finally got him calmed down enough to leave, and then she strode restlessly back and forth in her apartment, trying to work out what to do next. The Paragons had gone too far now. The heroes of old had become monsters, and they had to be stopped. But she couldn't just barge into the Sangreal and accuse them. They'd had plenty of time to hide the evidence. They'd call her a liar to her face, and laugh at her. No, she'd have to do this the hard way. Follow them, spy on them, gather hard evidence that couldn't be overlooked or buried. And for that, she was going to need her new ally, the reporter Nina Malapert.
    All it took was a short vid call, and a few dark hints, and Nina was on her way. She was hammering on
    Emma's door in under half an hour, and swept briskly into the apartment in a flurry of garments of clashing colors, her tall pink mohawk waving proudly above her shaved skull. She and Emma embraced happily, and then Nina tore herself away to prowl around the room, oohing and aahing loudly, and making sure her floating camera was recording it all.
    "Another exclusive! Emma Steel's very own private home life! Gosh, darling, Channel Two Seventy-nine would kill for material like this. Not that you'd want to appear there, Emma dear. Very downmarket, and tris tacky. They'd probably want pictures of you in a bubble bath, showing your bosoms and doing something suggestive with a loofah." She stopped in the middle of the room and looked about her, frowning prettily. "I have to say, it's all rather spartan, isn't it, darling? I mean, these furnishings are so last week, and you haven't even got any little bits and pieces, to give the place character. Everyone has a few little bits and pieces. Tell me you've at least got some stuffed animals in your bedroom."
    "Just the one," said Emma. "Head of a Hob hound. I shot and stuffed it myself."
    "Ooh! Ooh! A little bird told me on the way up here that you've had a gentleman caller. Very young and very fit, but looking totally miserable. Be honest now! Have there been tears and tantrums? Is someone on the way out? Is someone new on the horizon? Is he a celebrity? "Tell me everything, darling!"
    "Nina, calm down and sit down, please." Emma tried to sound stern, but the young journalist reminded her irresistibly of her younger sister back on Mistworld, always eager to get involved in everything, especially when it involved scandal and excitement. "Nina, this could be the biggest story of your career, but what I have in mind is very dangerous, and I need to be sure you understand the risks."
    Nina sat bolt upright in her chair, wide-eyed and quivering with excitement as Emma laid out the bare bones of the story for her.
    "Well, honestly, darling, this is… utterly wonderful! It's got everything. Sex, politics, treason, and a touch of gore for the tabloid shows! We could sell the rights to this story for enough money to retire on. We're talking miniseries here! I wonder who they'll get to play me? Yes, yes, don't look at me like that, darling.
    The wind will change and your face will get stuck that way. I know, it's all very serious and dangerous and all that, but one of us has to concentrate on the business side, or we'll get screwed over the contracts. It's a jungle out there these days. So, what's the plan? Does it involve shooting lots of people?
    Should I go home and change into something that doesn't matter if I get blood on it?"
    "Take a deep breath, Nina, you're hyperventilating.