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"Once again I had no clue as to what Maggie might be up to. I had already noticed that her car wasn't in the drive, but curiosity got the best of me so I went around back, located the key she'd hidden in the flowerpot letting myself in. Almost immediately I found another note taped to the refrigerator. Maggie had made stuffed peppers with all the trimmings, even setting out the wine to breathe. I saw that she'd actually set her formal dining room table, for one. This time Maggie had gone to great lengths to prepare something special as well as see to it that I dined elegantly and in style. I quickly reheated the peppers, poured myself a glass of Rubaiyat, really bringing out the flavor of the peppers, and enjoyed a nice, but very quiet dinner.As good as it was, I was still feeling a little weird sitting there all by myself. When I had finished eating, I cleared off the dishes, washing and putting them away. I wasn't about to leave Maggie with my mess to clean up, especially not after. Her stomach felt like it was being stabbed. She grabbed at her clothes, frantically trying to unzip her coat and lift her shirt. There, beneath her navel, a ring of foreign letters were being burned into her skin, sizzling as if she had been stuck with a brand. She sucked in a sharp breath, trying not to cry, completely at a loss. The pain started to fade just as quickly as it came, but black ink remained in its place.Her phone rang. She almost had a heart attack.“Hello?” she gasped, not yet getting her voice back in working order.“Where are you?”The voice was feminine and intimately familiar. It was Salesh, her roommate. Sam had always thought her name was a bit odd, but when mothers were naming their daughters things like Khaleesi and Ezrelda she didn’t really give it much—_this_ isn’t the time to be thinking about this.“Denny’s. I’m at– I’m at Denny’s,” she said, swallowing. “Salesh, I don’t know what the fuck just happened, but my stomach felt like it caught fire and now I have a.
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He was profusely sweating by now, and wanted nothing more than to end this … but determined stopped to catch his breath, and continued upward one slow tedious step at a time. The lady had already reached to top and was standing looking back at Benjamin with a mocking smile on her face. It seemed that she was very aware of what she was doing to poor Benjamin. Slowly but surely, Benjamin did finally reach the top of the stairs and stood with his hands on his knees totally exhausted at the effort. The lady led him into an elegant office and asked him to sit down on the couch facing the main desk. On the desk stood a line of beautiful shot-glasses each half full with some dried wax-like substance in them. What was even stranger, was that each of the shot-glasses was labeled in a copperplate script with the names of some of the top industrialists that Benjamin recognized. Not seeing anyone besides the two of them in the office, Benjamin croaked in the most authoritative tone that he.

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