Excerpt || Silicon Cast Redsine 7, Garry Nurrish & Trent Jamieson eds., 2002
Honourable Mention Aurealis Award for Best Horror Short Story, 2002
Honourable Mention Years Best Fantasy & Horror 16, ed. Ellen Datlow & Terry Windling, 2003
I do not knock. Londar's hearing is not so good. It is deemed a low priority by his medical team, and so is not attended to. I open the door, and the hundreds of mirrors in the room all reflect my face above the burgundy dress. As usual, I pass a critical eye over the reflection of my features. I like the sharp angles of my face and the full roundness of my figure. But also as usual, I pick out a dozen little things that need some extra care. My eyes could be larger, and my nose smaller. Perhaps I will adjust those features next. Then I turn to look for Londar. It takes me a moment to place the real man within all the reflections. He is in the centre of the room, sitting in his armchair, elevated thirty centimetres above the dense carpet. As I walk towards him, the mirrors make me feel as if I walk as part of an army, swarming towards Londar, closing in on him. He sits as still and perfect as a painting. The sheen of the lanterns reflect in his skin. He is one of the most beautiful men I have ever touched. I can hear his unnaturally steady breathing as I near him. Londar's chair is of a rich brocade, and he wears a sheer slip, studded with pearl buttons in a straight line. I can see the perfect circles of his nipples through the cloth. I look into his preternaturally bright eyes. He can still move his eyes. He rolls his blackened irises to the chocolates he knows are at his elbow. Bala always leaves chocolates on a silver tray just there. They are sweating lightly in the heat of the room.
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