When I walk into my suite one afternoon, trading shifts with Daji, I can't believe what I'm seeing. It takes several minutes to process the image in front of me.
Lamashtu is sitting, as calmly as you please, with Daji and Kryptosia. Her face and body are that of a humanoid leopard, with donkey ears. No human face this time. Her elegant dress is cheetah-patterned, and she is putting an eerily glowing pink flower in a vase.
I punch myself. "Is this another dream?"
"What do you think?" Daji asks. "Nothing ever hurts in dreams. How do you feel now?"
I wince, rubbing my solar plexus. "Sore."
"Then it's not a dream," Kryptosia observes in her neutral manner.
Lamashtu rises. D*mn, she still looks as regal as ever. "Hello, Volans. Fatherhood clearly agrees with you."
"I'd say the same if it weren't for your track record," I snarl.
