by Harriet Bazley.
"Not my friend," Blake said, strangely, then, stricken: "Sula - there was no need -"
"The price was too high," the woman - Sula? - retorted, and Avon felt his own body tense in a shock of uncomprehending recognition. "I'm tired of running, Blake, tired of hiding, tired of risking your life in place of mine. I'll take my own chances -" The gun had already been lowered; now she pulled down the breather.
"Avon?" she said, a little unsteadily.
Avon's pulse and mind both seemed to be racing; only his body was frozen. For a moment he wondered if stun ever gave you hallucinations.
"Anna Grant," he managed after an endless second, voice perfectly - he hoped - under control. "Anna, you're dead."
"So," said Blake very gently beside him, "was I."
"Anna," Avon said again in disbelief, then urgently, and for the first time with a trace of hope, "How did you get away?"
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Last updated on 05th of November 2000.