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eBook Category: Horror
eBook Description: A haunting, gripping fantasy tale that probes the heart of the conflict between Good and Evil. In a spectral universe, an immortal being finds himself appointed the Principle of Evil, since he lacks the heartlessness to be Good. And as the world around him transforms him into a Beast, he yearns for the virtuous Beauty that will make him whole.

eBook Publisher: Rosetta Solutions, Inc., Published: 1997
Fictionwise Release Date: December 2001

12 Reader Ratings: Great Good OK Poor

Available eBook Formats [MultiFormat - What's this?]: Adobe Acrobat (PDF) [128 KB], eReader (PDB) [54 KB], Palm Doc (PDB) [31 KB], Rocket/REB1100 (RB) [29 KB], Microsoft Reader (LIT) [98 KB] - PocketPC 1.0+ Compatible, Franklin eBookMan (FUB) [103 KB], hiebook (KML) [108 KB], Sony Reader (LRF) [105 KB], iSilo (PDB) [26 KB], Mobipocket (PRC) [33 KB], Kindle Compatible (MOBI) [80 KB], OEBFF Format (IMP) [46 KB]
Words: 9600
Reading time: 27-38 min.
Microsoft Reader (LIT) Format: Printing DISABLED, Read-Aloud ENABLED
Adobe Acrobat (PDF) Format:  Printing DISABLED, Read-Aloud DISABLED
All Other formats: Printing DISABLED, Read-aloud DISABLED

As expected, Almatria, King of Sanjran, sent his daughter Cimara to me for a certificate of her virginity preparatory to her betrothal to Prince Genon, eldest son of Xilon, King of Debreia, whom if all be well she shall wed within the year. She arrived this morning--a pretty little thing, deliciously flat-chested and squint-eyed, all ringlets and blushes and ribbons tied in unexpected places--so I debauched her for much of the day, then gave her her certificate as well as the obligatory nuptial present for the happy couple. Decided against the incurable clap, as being passé, and the demon-seed, as merely tiresome; settled for cold feet at bedtime for both the newlyweds--in perpetuity, naturally: all the best curses last for a lifetime. I'd allow a few years at most before Sanjran and Debreia are at war.

After she'd gone I ate, drank, wenched and ordered a couple of flayings for the morrow. And so to bed...

And that's precisely where I'm going to go now, scribe, so pack up your quills and your scrolls and be gone from my sight. I've had enough of everything for the day, but most especially of talking to you, my faithful amanuensis. Tomorrow ... tomorrow I may at last fulfil the promise I've made you on so many other nights like this, and start to relate the story of my life. But for now...

For now, leave me alone with my bottles and my thoughts, and pray on my behalf to the nonexistent god or goddess of your choosing that I'm not troubled by dreams tonight.