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And not even all that had prepared him for the corpse in the crypt at the church, the headless torso they had discovered that day

"Brent Malone! You’re under arrest"

The two men had stopped They stared at one another, and then at the officers

"What’s the charge?" Malone asked

Martine felt strangely unnerved Neither th coats They were both big es said His voice sounded quavery Not good, he thought They were the police

Though the pair they accosted were iest danger or resistance

"Javet knows that I’

"There is a warrant out for your arrest, Malone, and that is that The bodies are piling up, so if you’re innocent, perhaps you can prove it in jail"

Malone stepped forward "Gentlemen," he said softly "I’ht"

Martine drew his side ar for Malone’s heart "Monsieur, you are under arrest for theHe found hi past Malone to the otherto black out!

He stuainst the patrol car He shook his head, clearing his eyes

"Michel!" Georges called out frantically

"What, what is it?"

"I can’t see!"

"Hold still, close your eyes, take a breath!"

Michel had done so already He blinked, and was greatly relieved to realize that he had vision again

Vision

With nothing to see The street was e but shadows

Froated cry in the night

A howling

The night’s chill suddenly surrounded hi alive

"Get in the car!" he coes "Get the hell in the car!" Later, back in the light and bustle of the main square, he felt sheepish He looked at his partner "We never saw anything tonight, do you hear , sir Not a da about the drea, that she had entered a night here could be real

But it felt real

She was ht would never becoht The dark, she believed, was the safe realone by--si the streets of New York, doing so to capture the exactshe wanted for a canvas, with the paint perhaps disappearing each time it seemed she had touched the paper with the perfect tone The darkness was deep sleep, restful sleep, a place that was safe Strange that a shadow realht

But it wasn’t sunlight, not the light of day, or even the friendly light of a street at night flooded with neon

It was different Muted, eerie, yellow light tinged with so within it askew

And there was a breeze Not a soft, gentle breeze that wrapped around the flesh and touched with an air of freshness, not a breeze that lifted the hair as tenderly as a touch The breeze had a chilling element Not like the wind, not like the cold of winter It was a chill that seeht around the heart, and perhaps the soul

She alking, walking forward from the safety of the darkness into the unknown dread that would be so readily visibly in the odd and evil light She didn’t want to go, and indeed, tried to turn back And it wasn’t so ed her out, but rather that she knew she o forward It was imperative that she see whatever horrors were to be discovered in the realm of the macabre; she knew only that she est time she simply moved, aware of the chill, aware of the evil She moved with caution, yet wondered why She could see her bare feet take step after step, but there see beneath the around her with the breeze, the fabric itself made cold by the touch of the unlikely wind Her hair pulled behind her, blown out around her, tangled and whipped, and she could feel each strand as it touched her face Her fingers were cold, her hands knotted and unknotted with tension, and she could take note of each and every sensation around her Color