Mr. Harris showed me into his house and had some breakfast for me. "You'll need your strength," he said. As we ate Mr. Harris explained about the hou...e. He had inherited it and the guesthouse. A variety of friends, relatives and tenants had lived there and left or stored lots of useless stuff. My job was to clean it out. "Where should I start?" I asked. He paused and gave me a thin smile. "The upstairs bedroom, I guess. Work your way down. I'm going out all morning and I won't be back. At best.But Zai's empathic skill was as twisted as his sexual desires. He didn't feel exactly what his victims felt, but a dulled down version. So the deeper the pain he caused, the better his resulting ecstasy. The boy before him had turned out to be a resilient soul, and Zai had been brought to ever higher peaks by the wounds he'd wrought into the boy's skin. And when he'd snapped the boy's arm, and he hadn't blacked out. Zai closed his eyes and sucked in his breath to remember that spike of. More

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