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lucid, while the pitch was a miss-mash of highs and lows, like nails running down violin strings. But most of all she sensed the pleasure in the eerie murmur that filled her ears. Whereas before she longed for someone to speak, she now yearned for the previous deathly silence.
    “Now, now, there is no need to cry, my dear,” said the stranger.
    His sickly sweet now high-pitched voice rang in her ears; she tried imagining the face that belonged to this monster but nothing in her worst nightmares could conjure something that obscene. Something deep inside her wanted to see his face; something in the darkest reaches of her soul wanted him to look her in the eyes. A tear rolled down the side of her face and she felt a gentle hand brush it away. As she stared up at the dimly lit ceiling, she could make out a shadow here and there, then a shape in the distance coming closer. She blinked for a second or two, just so her eyes could adjust to the light conditions but as she opened them, she was greeted by a face with large maniacal eyes and a smile that froze her with terror.
    “So you would give me anything I wish?” he repeated. His smile widened and his brow creased with a scowl.
    “I like your eyes my dear, so blue I have never seen the like.”
    “Th...Tha...thank you,” she replied, somewhat shocked by the change in mood.
    “No, I am afraid you don’t understand. I really like your eyes.”
    For a brief second she saw the strange instrument come into focus above her right eye then there was blackness. Her ears filled with the sound of her own screams until she passed out, while all the time the chimes from the pocket watch played in the background even after her screams had faded into the shadows of the room.
     
     

EIGHT
     
     
     
     
    A slight breeze blew through the streets of little Italy, but that just cooled the warm air left over from the scorching day’s sun. People sat outside on the tables and chairs that lined the streets outside the many restaurants scattering the well-lit streets, the reds, greens and blues of lights reflected in windows and from vehicles. The night air was filled with music and laughter, and everyone was happy and having a good time, bar one.
    A shadowy form crept into an alleyway, carefully clinging to the shadows as it went. It stopped just before a group of stacked boxes and observed someone at the end of the passage. The stranger looked at a large man who was watching a TV that was somehow plugged into the local power, and light from the set lit up the alleyway but also created convenient shadows—convenient for the stranger.
    Vince Carbone was a large bald man, his giant form seemed almost too large for his blue hand-stitched suit, and he danced up and down as he watched the ball game on TV.
    “Come on, God dammit!” he barked in a gruff, almost gravelly voice.
    “Where is Santini?” asked the figure bathed in the darkness.
    “Well, well, my mystery guest is here,” answered the large man, whose name was Vince.
    “We have been expecting you, didn’t think you would show, but hey...”
    The man turned halfway round just so he could lay eyes on the idiot who was disturbing him, but all he saw was shadows and a form that was bathed in darkness. The form did not move at first but then stepped into the middle of the walkway. As the newcomer moved all light seemed to disappear from around him, as if he was himself a shadow.
    The mysterious figure stood upright, almost alert. From behind him, several large brutish-looking thugs in jeans and t-shirts appeared, brandishing weapons of all descriptions.
    Vince turned fully, not wanting to miss this confrontation. His suit was matched with a white shirt that was opened wide enough to show off his bronzed barrel chest and a gold chain with a large crucifix that hung amidst the grey hair.
    The light from the TV set caused flashes of light that danced up and down the alley, but still the stranger was hidden.
    “Take this bastard apart,