y is obscure.
The Nio, Izanamis people, were smoke wraiths. The entire epic war between Izanami and Red Dragon lasted no longer than the span of a human breath-but for the Nio, that breath was a lifetime. And that was Izanamis other secret. She knew how insignificant her people and their victory were in the universe. Its insignificance made the victory seem all the sweeter to Izanami, proving once again that the logic of Tricksters and the enlightened are hard to tell apart.
Forty Three
Eaten Alive
They seemed to walk forever, but they never grew tired or hungry or thirsty.
"What a lousy day to stop smoking crack," said Spyder, stumbling on the staircase for maybe the fiftieth time. He had a deathgrip on the metal railing. It had never occurred to him that something as simple as walking down a flight of stairs could be such a pain in the ass when blind. His balance was off, his whole sense of where he ended and other objects began was gone and every new scream and sound from below startled him.
"I knew this reporter down in LA. He was doing a series of stories on local sub-cultures for one of the alternative weeklies. You know, the kind of scene-hopping bullshit that desk monkeys and teenyboppers read to feel edgy. Eventually, his editor wants him to write about the Hells Angels. He gets a hookup to their clubhouse and hes surprised by how smart and cool most of the Angels seem. At the end of his formal interview, they tell him theyre having a party and he should come, so he can get a better idea of whats what. Sure, he says, expecting a phone call or a flyer or something. " Spyder stumbled again. Shrike caught him by the shoulder. "Thanks. About three in the morning,
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