Intermediaries

The Shaman stepped out of the hotel room and walked down the carpeted hallway to the elevators. This place, this tower in the middle of the city, teemed with ghosts. He felt their fingers on his nape and neck, trailing across his palms, lips brushing his cheek.

The elevator climbed.

The people who remained here would soon welcome another. There was no saving the girl. She could have lived, but he saw the surrender in her eyes. Heard the words her pleading lips could not speak.

He pressed the button for the lobby. Something laid a hand on his shoulder.

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