His voice was warm and welcoming, and the clasp of his fingers firm. Want to come inside? He held out his hand.

The office door swung open, and a youngish man, his tie loosened at the neck, his thick light hair standing up in crisp curls, stood in the door. The girl’s eyes lingered on him for a moment, but a ringing phone forced her attention back to the switchboard, and Cannon loosed his grip on the magazine, sighing faintly. He held it without opening it, his hands clenched on the edges, as if forcing himself to sit still. Yes-yes, thank you, he said, and reached out a determined arm to pick up the magazine. He squeezed his eyes tightly shut, as if in pain, and the girl behind the Christmas tree raised her head momentarily. His eyes lingered momentarily on the two titles near the top of the rack, The True Store of Witchcraft and Voodoo in the Modern World, by John Cannon. In a rack beside the desk were a few dozen brightly-colored paperback books, the recent releases of Blackcock Books. There was a small green plastic Christmas tree, decorated with blue glass balls and red-ribbon bows, on the reception desk. Whatever it was, it wasn't there, or at least his eyes didn't linger on it. He stretched his neck to look around the office, frowning as if he had lost something there and couldn’t quite remember what. He picked up a magazine but barely leafed through the pages, riffling them as if he were shuffling a deck of cards, and put it down again. The man standing before the desk-tall, thin, and slightly stooped, his face drawn and haggard as if with some overriding worry-turned away, fidgeting slightly, and lowered his lanky body onto a plastic sofa. Melford will be with you in just a minute. Cannon for a few minutes? She listened a moment, the smiled again, a little more cordially this time, and said, Take a seat, Mr. The faintly pretty girl at the reception desk smiled, depressed a button, and murmured, Mr. The sign on the door, in modest gold letters, read JAMES C. The Marion Zimmer Bradley Literary Works Trust All characters, names, locations, and events portrayed in this book are fictional or used in an imaginary manner to entertain, and any resemblance to any real people, situations, or incidents is purely coincidental. Copyright © 1972 by Marion Zimmer Bradley

Dark Satanic by Marion Zimmer Bradley