Sekenre found it, wiping the black man’s chest clear, then reaching up and ripping out his throat with a single, violent jerk. Once more, blood sprayed over the walls and ceiling. The black man vanished.
And again, a bald, fat man in an iridescent blue robe sat cross-legged in the middle of the circle, writing on a tablet in his lap with a quill. Sekenre also had a tablet and pen. The fat man held up what he had written. Sekenre gasped, as if struck a heavy blow. The fat man grinned. Then Sekenre held up his tablet, and the other scowled, drawing back in fear. He scribbled some more, but before he had finished gave up, cast his tablet aside, screamed, and vanished, darkness closing over him like the cover of a book suddenly snapped shut.
It went on for hours, Sekenre’s enemies appearing
