Deathstalker 07 - Deathstalker Return

influence. Now all that was gone, was he still Tel Markham? Who was he, really? What did he believe in? He'd never believed in any of the causes he supported, not once; they were all just a means to an end, to making him a mover and a shaker. All he had left now was himself, and now that he looked, there didn't seem to be much of him.
    No, there was one thing he was sure of: he was a man who wouldn't murder his own brother.
    Tel smiled slowly, coldly. When everything else has been taken from you, one thing still remains: revenge. And Finn really should have remembered that a man with nothing left to lose is the most dangerous man of all.
    Finn Durandal decided that he would murder Angelo Bellini and make it look as though Tel Markham had done it anyway. So he strolled through the Cathedral, nodded casually toMarion at her desk, walked unannounced into Angelo's office, hauled him over his desk, and strangled the Angel of Madraguda with his bare hands. Finn watched almost clinically as Angelo's face reddened and then darkened, and the way his eyes bulged as he struggled for breath as he beat helplessly against Finn with his soft, useless hands. But in the end it was all over very quickly, and Finn was somewhat surprised and disappointed to discover that he hadn't actually enjoyed it very much. It was just work, a necessary and marginally unpleasant detail he'd had to take care of, and now it was done. Finn let the dead body fall to the carpet, and then he strode round the desk and sat down in Angelo's chair to consider the matter.
    It was getting harder and harder for Finn to find things he could enjoy. When you can do anything, and
    no one can stop you, it rather takes the thrill out of it. He needed greater and greater stimulus to activate and entertain him, to keep him going. He'd done all the usual things, broken all the usual taboos, and now… his greatest enemy was boredom. He was beginning to understand what it was that drove the ELFs to commit acts of such appalling excess. When nothing is forbidden or impossible, even the vilest of sins can lose its savor. Finn had thrown aside all moral restraints in the name of freedom, and found it exhilarating; but now he was discovering that when you care about nothing, then nothing much matters anymore. It would probably have been different if he'd been a man of great physical appetites—for food and drink and sex. But he'd never had much use for any of them. And it might have helped if love had been real, but it never had been, for him. He'd always been much more comfortable with hatred. It seemed all he had left now were the subtle joys of intrigue, the setting of his mind in opposition to others.
    That, and the happy satisfactions of revenge.
    He would still bring the Empire down and exult in its destruction—but he was no longer as sure he could be bothered to raise it up again.
    Finn considered the rotting severed head on its spike on Angelo's desk. Its ugliness bothered him. So he removed it from its spike, and threw it aside. He got up, went over to Angelo's body, cut off the head and brought it back to the desk. He settled Angelo's head on the letter spike, taking some care to get it perfectly straight and upright, and then sat back down again to study it. He particularly liked the look of surprise that still haunted the slack features. He decided to leave it there, on the desk, as a gift for whoever he decided to put in charge of the Church Militant. It would make such a marvelous object lesson. Hopefully, whoever he finally settled on wouldn't take the job so seriously this time.
    Treasure Mackenzie, also known as Frankie, bribed and dazzled her way past the guards at King Douglas's door, breezed cheerfully through into his private chambers, and then locked the door behind her, using a key that would keep everybody out, even the guards. She had a lot to say and do, and she didn't intend to be interrupted.Douglas rose up out of his chair with a polite objection on his lips, and then stopped as he realized there was something different about his fiancee this time. Her face was as beautiful and sensual as ever, but her eyes were cold and her generous mouth was set in a fiat line. She strode towards him like a warrior going into battle, andDouglas dropped his book into his chair and met her with a cold, thoughtful look of his own. Treasure didn't look happy to see him. She came to a halt right in front of him, her eyes boring into his.
    "The time for masks is