Heretics book 3 - The Apocryphile Press

THE KINGDOM :: 183
angst. Then he threw the package on his tiny desk and set
about dressing for breakfast and morning mass, feeling for
all the world like he had just dodged a bullet.
:: 38 ::
Terry peered in the door of the guest room, and saw the
body of Randall Webber resting quietly. He pushed the door
open wide, and entering the room, placed a small stack of
books on the floor near the bed. Then he opened the blinds
and the two windows overlooking the fruit trees that
adorned the back yard.
The guest room was small, but comfortable. Webber lay
on a twin-sized bed, a wine-crate nightstand beside him.
Terry picked up a glass of water from the night table and carried
it down the narrow, winding hallway to the bathroom,
where he emptied it and filled it again with fresh water.
Then, taking a bottle from the medicine cabinet, he went
back to where the sleeping angel lay.
He placed the water glass on the nightstand, and removed
two of the small orange pills from the bottle. With his
thumbnail, he crushed the tablets on the nightstand, and
then carefully transferred the powder to the water glass
using his fingers. He cursed himself momentarily for not
doing this more scientifically, with a mortar and pestle, and
warm water, but he was too busy to indulge himself. The
powder dissolved into the water readily enough despite its
temperature, and Terry lifted the glass to the magician’s lips
and slowly and carefully emptied it.
Checking his watch, he noted the time and went to the
bathroom, both to have his requisite morning shit and to kill
some time. Having finished, and read several pages of the
current Christian Century, Terry returned to the room.