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A hysterical laugh filled the room.
Who could be laughing? Surely not the Altgrave. He would never laugh again.
Then I realized it was me.
"Well, Brandon," I said to myself in the mirror, wiping away the drying blood on my face with a white towel, leaving it stained, "nothing easy is worth doing. The writing looks like Hebrew. I just need to find some scholar I can pay to translate it." I laughed again. "But first, I really needed to get out of Germany, and maybe get a drink."
Having a drink always made me feel better after I was forced to correct Maryanne.
"You can drink once you're on the plane heading back to America," I promised myself. "Just one drink, it couldn't hurt."
I needed to get far away before anyone found the Altgrave. The authorities back in the States never understood that Maryanne made me hurt her. And I doubt the German authorities would be any more understanding that the Altgrave made me kill him.
I clutched the book and stepped over the Altgrave and strolled out of his penthouse apartment. I had my future in hand. Mark Glassner would pay.
To be continued...
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