In the gathering dusk, they stood watching the cold stars blink into view.  They sat on the hood of the limousine, waiting for the others to finish their rehearsal in the soundproof studio Lamb had arranged.

            “Did your man do as I instructed?”  asked the cold-voiced monster wearing Ethan Pitney’s face.

            “Yes.  He contacted me an hour ago, saying that the police finally found them.  He burned them with the gasoline as you suggested.  The sheriff is completely flummoxed, no idea who could have done such a horrendous thing in his quiet little town, or why.  I’m sure that it will be impossible for them to figure out that she was drowned.”

            “It won’t matter even if they do.  There’s nothing connecting us to any of it.  The only one left that can possibly suspect anything is Genevieve, and she wouldn’t be able to believe it.  Not her Ethan, even if he is acting strangely.  It’s not possible.”  He spoke with sarcasm, and then laughed spitefully.  “I’m so glad that the weakling is gone.  It feels so good to be in control after all this time.”

            “Even so, you should make an effort to be less conspicuous for awhile.  You can’t just kill indiscriminately, not yet, anyway.”  Lamb cautioned.

            “I suppose,” The younger man concurred, “but I do hope I won’t have to wait too long.”

            “Not to worry.  While the others start performing, and your sister goes home, we’ll have you stay here.  We’ll say you’ve accepted a summer job with me as an aide, and in the meantime we’ll get you trained in all forms of combat imaginable.  Not only will you have the will to kill, you’ll also have the ability.”

            “Sounds like fun,” the spectre laughed, his eyes as cold as the cheerless stars they looked at.  “Sounds like a lot of fun.”

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