Kanno knew she had just killed. There was fresh blood on the altar,

but no other evidence of any of her victims. She had evidently

already disposed of the bodies. He knew what would be expected of

him now. Each time, after she killed, she wanted to have sex. It

could hardly be called making love. She wanted something, he

supplied it. It was as simple as that.

He did not delude himself that she had any feeling for him. He

certainly had none for her, though he pretended that he did. Leila

was an insatiably carnal creature, but to her, sex was merely

another way of exercising power. To Kanno, sex meant absolutely

nothing. It was a biological function, nothing more. He did not find

having sex with her repulsive. Quite the contrary. She was an

extraordinarily accomplished lover. She was beautiful and intensely

desirable. Kanno had no trouble performing with her and he could

take pleasure in her body, but he did not for one moment allow that

to cloud his judgment. He was a man of discipline.

Already, his patience had been rewarded. He had discovered that

she was not infallible. She believed that he was slavishly devoted to

her, that he worshiped her. She had a monumental ego. It wasn’t

much, but it was something that he might be able to use against

her when the time came. It was a weakness. In time, he was sure

she would reveal others.

She was waiting for him in her chambers, along with her

ever-present attendant, the animated corpse. Kanno could not

understand how she could bear to be near that creature. There was

something profoundly repellent about her. In life, she had not been

unattractive. A young Eurasian whore, perhaps seventeen or

eighteen years old, with a sultry, pouty face, long black hair, a slim,

long-legged body, and full, slightly upturned breasts. But now, she

was like an empty, soulless husk. The long black hair hung lank

and snarled upon her shoulders. The skin had taken on a deathly

pallor. It was drawn and almost translucent. Ghostly. And the face

had no expression whatsoever. The eyes were dark, empty pools.

She shuffled about, barefoot, moving with that curious,

marionettelike gait. Her long, filmy white gown was soiled and

dingy. Dust clung to her. Just looking at her made Kanno’s stomach

turn.