That night, no one bothered Luther. No 'Zoids barged up to wallop the door of Boraf's house-mound, demanding conversion. Luther figured it was because Boraf--and other 'Zoids, too, most likely--was doing the job just fine without him.
Finally, Luther was alone with time to rest...but all he could do was lie awake and think.
The faces of the many people he'd killed kept drifting up out of his memory, filling him with guilt and regret. Number 150, in particular, kept returning again and again, the worst of the lot.
Number 150, Harmony Duquesne, 18 years old.
The harder he tried not to think about her, the more forcefully she surged back to the forefront of his mind. The man he had become could not believe what the man he had been had done to her.
He wondered how he had managed it, h
