in his hand. Her eyes blossomed with fear. The pupils opened up
and reflex tears beaded on their dark surface like dew. She was
lovely in terror?a perfect, pleading mask of alabaster white skin,
wide eyes, and, best of all, her mouth, an open oval of red surprise
like she was waiting to be kissed. Creon wanted to hold her like
that for days, but a split second of enjoyment later and he heard a
snap.
Like a switched-off TV, the light in her eyes contracted to pinpricks,
and then went completely dark.
Creon dumped her body in the water and ran back to the citadel
so quickly no normal person could see him pass, even if they were
standing inches away.
Still shaking with a half-sickening thrill, he went straight up to
his room, and froze when he opened the door. His mother was
waiting for him. She was sitting next to his packed suitcase with
her narrow, manicured hands folded neatly in her lap, holding
something. Her head fell to the side as she stared at him. His
mother only needed to look at him to know that the meeting that
she had arranged, the meeting that was supposed to be nothing
more than a polite gesture, had ended violently.
?Did you have to kill her?? she asked seriously and without reproach.
Mildred was nothing if not practical.
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?She provoked me,? Creon said as he moved past his mother and
grabbed the handle of his suitcase. ?Besides, it?s better this way
and you know it.?
Mildred dropped her eyes and nodded, accepting that her son
was right. More than one reporter had ?disappeared? over the
years.
?Given the situation, I approve of you leaving the country for a