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    Bride of the Dark One
    Bride of the Dark One
    Bride of the Dark One
    Ebook48 pages31 minutes

    Bride of the Dark One

    By Florence Verbell Brown

    ()

    Read preview
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherArchive Classics
    Release dateNov 27, 2013
    Bride of the Dark One

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      Book preview

      Bride of the Dark One - Florence Verbell Brown

      Project Gutenberg's Bride of the Dark One, by Florence Verbell Brown

      This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with

      almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or

      re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included

      with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org

      Title: Bride of the Dark One

      Author: Florence Verbell Brown

      Release Date: February 17, 2010 [EBook #31306]

      Language: English

      *** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BRIDE OF THE DARK ONE ***

      Produced by Sankar Viswanathan, Greg Weeks, and the Online

      Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net

      Transcriber's Note:

      This etext was produced from Planet Stories July 1952. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.

      BRIDE OF THE DARK ONE

      By FLORENCE VERBELL BROWN

      The outcasts; the hunted of all the brighter worlds, crowded onto Yaroto. But even here was there salvation for Ransome, the jinx-scarred acolyte, when tonight was the night of Bani-tai ... the night of expiation by the photo-memoried priests of dark Darion?

      he last light in the Galaxy was a torch. High in the rafters of Mytor's Cafe Yaroto it burned, and its red glare illuminated a gallery of the damned. Hands that were never far from blaster or knife; eyes that picked a hundred private hells out of the swirling smoke where a woman danced.

      She was good to look at, moving in time to the savage rhythm of the music. The single garment she wore bared her supple body, and thighs and breasts and a cloud of dark hair wove a pattern of desire in the close room.

      Fat Mytor watched, and his little crafty eyes gleamed. The Earth-girl danced like a she-devil tonight. The tables were crowded with the outcast and the hunted of all the brighter worlds. The woman's warm body, moving in the torchlight, would stir memories that men had thought they left light years behind. Gold coins would shower into Mytor's palm for bad wine, for stupor and forgetfulness.

      Mytor sipped his imported amber kali, and the black eyes moved with seeming casualness, penetrating the deep shadows where the tables were, resting briefly on each drunken, greedy or fear-ridden face.

      It was an old process with Mytor, nearly automatic. A glance told him enough, the state of a man's mind and senses and wallet. This trembling wreck, staring at the woman and nursing a glass of the cheapest green

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