“Maybe you thought wrong.” Dmitry shrugged, turning the compass over and over in his hands as though it were a worry stone. “Or maybe you thought right, and I’m the one who was wrong. I don’t know.”
He was startled to think that such a delicate flower as Ippolit Rakitin could harbor such malicious thoughts. It was macabre and wrong.
“Strange, isn’t it? I never took the time to look at the stars until I came here.”
Maybe Rakitin wasn’t quite as delicate or innocent as he looked.
An awful thought skittered across the surface of his consciousness, like a rock across a still pond.
He pressed the compass into Ippolit’s palm, and his hands lingered.
The pathologist’s skin felt warm and soft, and slightly clammy.
“What was her name? You want to kill me… because I killed someone very close to you. Don’t you? Was she a lover? A sister?”
Where maliciousness typically lay coiled like a venomous snake, there was only curiosity, and a frantic desire to know.
no subject
He was startled to think that such a delicate flower as Ippolit Rakitin could harbor such malicious thoughts. It was macabre and wrong.
“Strange, isn’t it? I never took the time to look at the stars until I came here.”
Maybe Rakitin wasn’t quite as delicate or innocent as he looked.
An awful thought skittered across the surface of his consciousness, like a rock across a still pond.
He pressed the compass into Ippolit’s palm, and his hands lingered.
The pathologist’s skin felt warm and soft, and slightly clammy.
“What was her name? You want to kill me… because I killed someone very close to you. Don’t you? Was she a lover? A sister?”
Where maliciousness typically lay coiled like a venomous snake, there was only curiosity, and a frantic desire to know.