“He believed he was alone and unobserved, but it would make no difference anyway: no one would object to a crazy hermit sitting on a riverbank talking to himself. He suspected that a handful of locals thought of him that way, as an eccentric recluse: someone to be regarded warily, but mainly harmless. He suspected it and didn’t much care one way or the other. In their position he’d probably feel the same way about it. Indeed he sometimes wished he was in their position: normal, common-or-garden,... everyday people. Homo sapiens, with normal lives to lead. But he wasn’t in their position, he was in his, and it could hardly be described as normal. He was a Necroscope1 and as far as he knew he was the only Necroscope in the world. There should be at least one other like him, his son, but Harry Jr. was no longer in the world. Or if he was, Harry didn’t know where. Harry looked down between his knees and dangling legs at his own face mirrored on the surface of the water. He watched its blank expression turn to a cynical scowl.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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