my hand and gave it a strong squeeze, and I squeezed back.
  "Everything's going to be all right," she said.
  I nodded noncommittally. Even before I died, I knew things didn't always work out for the best, and being a zombie working in a city full of monsters hadn't done anything to change my mind about that. But I wisely kept my mouth shut â for a change.
  The hospital room was small and sterile: white walls and ceiling, white-tiled floor, white curtains over the windows, white sheets on the bed. Devona wore a white hospital gown, and even the furniture â a stool on rolling casters and a couple uncomfortable-looking wooden chairs â was white. The medical scanners were encased in white plastic, and the wires that stretched between Devona and the machines were also white. The IV bag hanging on a metal stand next to the bed made a startling contrast to the room's color scheme. It contained a dark red liquid that flowed slowly through a tube into Devona's left wrist. If this had been a hospital back on Earth, I might've thought she was getting a transfusion, but for a vampire â even a half-vampire like Devona â blood was more effective than the usual intravenous fluids.
  A Mind's Eye set was mounted in the corner of the ceiling, and it was one of the healthiest I'd ever seen, certainly in better condition than the old rheumy-eyed set in the apartment I shared with Devona. The skin wasn't discolored, the iris was light blue with tiny gold flecks, the lashes were long and clean, the white of the eye was pure ivory, and its capillaries few and unswollen. Mind's Eyes telepathically broadcast their programs directly into your mind when you gaze upon them, and this one was currently showing an image of a reporter who looked human but had tiny black spiders crawling over every inch of her exposed skin. She was standing on a Sprawl street corner in front of a large building I didn't recognize, a serious expression on her face, mouth moving silently.
  Mind's Eyes don't come with remote controls; they're not necessary. All you need to do to change the channel or control the volume is think about it. And since the information is transferred directly into your brain, two people can look at the same set and "hear" different volumes, even view separate programs if they wish. So I concentrated, putting a little extra effort into it, since Mind's Eyes have trouble transmitting to my zombie brain, and after a moment I could hear the sound.Â
  "⦠at Magewrights' Manor refuse to comment on the reports that magic-users have been disappearing throughout the city over the last several weeks. The Darklord Talaith has also declined to make a statement on the matter."
  It was hard watching the woman talk as spiders scuttled in and out of her mouth every time she opened it. It looked damned uncomfortable to me â wouldn't those little spiderlegs tickle her tongue? But she didn't seem to notice, let alone care.Â
  "The official word from the Nightspire on the situation came to us today from First Adjudicator Quillion."
  The picture changed to display the sharp-featured face of a man in his seventies who was completely hairless â not only was he bald, he had no eyebrows or eyelashes. He wore a crimson robe as sign of his office and projected an aura of haughty disdain. He gave a cold, thin-lipped smile before speaking.Â
  "While it is true that certain members of the thaumaturgical community have gone missing recently, there's no reason to suspect their disappearances are connected. As we all know, magic is a high-risk profession, and there are any number of ways its practitioners can come to unfortunate and untimely ends â ones that don't always leave physical evidence behind." His smile widened a touch at that. "And not to put too fine a point on it, there is no shortage of predators in the city. At this time, there is simply no
  "Everything's going to be all right," she said.
  I nodded noncommittally. Even before I died, I knew things didn't always work out for the best, and being a zombie working in a city full of monsters hadn't done anything to change my mind about that. But I wisely kept my mouth shut â for a change.
  The hospital room was small and sterile: white walls and ceiling, white-tiled floor, white curtains over the windows, white sheets on the bed. Devona wore a white hospital gown, and even the furniture â a stool on rolling casters and a couple uncomfortable-looking wooden chairs â was white. The medical scanners were encased in white plastic, and the wires that stretched between Devona and the machines were also white. The IV bag hanging on a metal stand next to the bed made a startling contrast to the room's color scheme. It contained a dark red liquid that flowed slowly through a tube into Devona's left wrist. If this had been a hospital back on Earth, I might've thought she was getting a transfusion, but for a vampire â even a half-vampire like Devona â blood was more effective than the usual intravenous fluids.
  A Mind's Eye set was mounted in the corner of the ceiling, and it was one of the healthiest I'd ever seen, certainly in better condition than the old rheumy-eyed set in the apartment I shared with Devona. The skin wasn't discolored, the iris was light blue with tiny gold flecks, the lashes were long and clean, the white of the eye was pure ivory, and its capillaries few and unswollen. Mind's Eyes telepathically broadcast their programs directly into your mind when you gaze upon them, and this one was currently showing an image of a reporter who looked human but had tiny black spiders crawling over every inch of her exposed skin. She was standing on a Sprawl street corner in front of a large building I didn't recognize, a serious expression on her face, mouth moving silently.
  Mind's Eyes don't come with remote controls; they're not necessary. All you need to do to change the channel or control the volume is think about it. And since the information is transferred directly into your brain, two people can look at the same set and "hear" different volumes, even view separate programs if they wish. So I concentrated, putting a little extra effort into it, since Mind's Eyes have trouble transmitting to my zombie brain, and after a moment I could hear the sound.Â
  "⦠at Magewrights' Manor refuse to comment on the reports that magic-users have been disappearing throughout the city over the last several weeks. The Darklord Talaith has also declined to make a statement on the matter."
  It was hard watching the woman talk as spiders scuttled in and out of her mouth every time she opened it. It looked damned uncomfortable to me â wouldn't those little spiderlegs tickle her tongue? But she didn't seem to notice, let alone care.Â
  "The official word from the Nightspire on the situation came to us today from First Adjudicator Quillion."
  The picture changed to display the sharp-featured face of a man in his seventies who was completely hairless â not only was he bald, he had no eyebrows or eyelashes. He wore a crimson robe as sign of his office and projected an aura of haughty disdain. He gave a cold, thin-lipped smile before speaking.Â
  "While it is true that certain members of the thaumaturgical community have gone missing recently, there's no reason to suspect their disappearances are connected. As we all know, magic is a high-risk profession, and there are any number of ways its practitioners can come to unfortunate and untimely ends â ones that don't always leave physical evidence behind." His smile widened a touch at that. "And not to put too fine a point on it, there is no shortage of predators in the city. At this time, there is simply no
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