horror I found that they were identical with my own. I wanted the Widow, wantedher so bad there were no words for it. I wanted to clutch her to me so tightlyher ribs would splinter and for just this once she'd know it was real. I wantedto own her. To possess her. To put an end to all her little games. To know herevery thought and secret, down to the very bottom of her being.

No more lies, babe, I thought, no more evasions. You're mine now.

So perfectly in sync was I with the Corpsegrinder's desires that it shifted itsprimary consciousness back into the liquid sphere of memory, where it hung smugand lazy, watching, a voyeur with a willing agent. I was in control of theautonomous functions now. I reshaped the tentacles, merging and recombining theminto two strong arms. The claws and talons that clutched the fence I made legsagain. The exterior of the Corpsegrinder I morphed into human semblance, savefor that great mass of memories sprouting from our back like a bloatedspidersack. Last of all I made the head.

I gave it my own face.

"Surprised to see me again, babe?" I leered. Her expression was not so muchfearful as disappointed. "No," she said wearily. "Deep down, I guess I alwaysknew you'd be back."

As I drew the Widow closer, I distantly knew that all that held me to theCorpse-grinder in that instant was our common store of memories and mydetermination not to lose them again. That was enough, though. I pushed my faceinto hers, forcing open her mouth. Energies flowed between us like a feast oftongues.

I prepared to drink her in.

There were no barriers between us. This was an experience as intense as when,making love, you lose all track of which body is your own and thought dissolvesinto the animal moment. For a giddy instant I was no less her than I was myself.I was the Widow staring fascinated into the filthy depths of my psyche. She wasmyself witnessing her astonishment as she realized exactly how little I had ever