“Ah. Let us begin then!” Dippel exclaimed, believing that he’d seen some spark of emotion other than rage. He pointed at his chest. “I am Johann Konrad Dippel. You are”—he pointed at the monster—“a hideous fiend, but nonetheless you are my creation and the living embodiment of my genius. You will need a name eventually. But for now let us begin your education.”

He would simply treat the newborn monster like a newborn child. Sadly, he had never been good with children. Dippel picked out a torch on the wall and gestured at it. “That is fire. Fire!” The beady, mismatched eyes had followed his gesture. “Fire. Say it with me. Fire.”

The creature moved his mouth. The sounds that came out were not correct at all.

“You call that hideous manipulation of the tongue fire?” Lazy pronunciations simply would not do. “Fire! Bad! It is fire, my idiot beast. I would hope that not all babies are as profoundly stupid as you. I’m afraid this education shall take forever.”

The creature glared at him, and there was a slight flexing of huge muscles, as if it were contemplating testing the new chains, but then it let out a noise that was very much like a resigned sigh.

The lessons continued.

* * *

Tom Strayhorn had blacked out when the car had been run off the road and crashed. He must have hit his head.

Something grey was in front of him. It turned out to be a deflated airbag. Blood was drizzling from a cut on his head and beating out a red pattern on the airbag. He was hanging from his seat belt. The car was tilted downward at a very steep angle. He was freezing cold. As he came to, he realized it was because his legs were submerged in cold water. Focusing past the airbag, there was nothing but black rushing water on the other side of the broken windshield. For a brief moment Strayhorn thought they were sinking, and he thrashed against his seat belt, only to realize that the water wasn’t rising. They were stuck. The car was nose down in the river.

He didn’t know how long he’d been out. He remembered that he had been driving fast along a curvy road, calling for help and giving their position over the radio, when a helicopter had appeared in front and blinded him with a spotlight. He’d tried to keep going, but they’d opened fire, hitting the engine . . . He’d swerved and then the windshield had shattered . . . It was all very fuzzy. He couldn’t even remember where he’d been going in such a hurry and why somebody had been chasing them.

The helicopter’s spotlight filled the car with white light. The rotors were getting louder as the helicopter descended.

Correction. Was still chasing them.