Summary:

Ever wondered what the Proto-nephilim’s supposed to have for dinner? A mealtime in the life of Kristina Boaz’s favourite doggie.

Excerpt:

The Proto looked up as a mottled human head landed a few inches away from it’s nose and bounced several times before coming to rest against the side of the tank, it’s glassy sunken eyes staring in bloodshot terror at the abomination that merely gazed at it for a moment, before growling in disgust at such a pitiful offering. Kristina was suitably disappointed with this lack of enthusiasm — she’d freshly severed this head herself, and left the brain inside as a special treat, knowing how much her pet loved soft centres. It was most unlike it to be so disinterested in raw flesh, and she became immediately concerned about this lethargic response. Perhaps she could tempt it with something tastier. Turning away from the opening she addressed the two guards who stood silently behind her.

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