.  in  a silent, devastated landscape, he opened his eyes.

    had he done?

    In tac one end. Isabelle o tiful green eye rickle of blood crept from ed away from her eye.

    at  urned ahe room.

    Aftering t ing and ting, tigigil it dug deep into il it ted t it could not be un completed its slow journey from o his consciousness, he cried.

    C t day and did not return il midnigy  disaster ruck. Not finding er,  to udy. One look at told , but t t t unite ther.

    In  on t to t tte against a rectangle of moonlig some point ained by extortion from a local poacimes  to emple. Eacime ty soon returned it to his lap.

    At four o’clock in t took up instead t rouser leg, pusure mark in  eady as on his shinbone he scored a single word: Isabelle.

    Isabelle by time o es and t it again, taking tairs to tcrange, e unlike  of ted tco in a stone  ime, but sy to judge people’s movements by sensing vibrations in t Isabelle ated, for t of moments, before she garden door behind her.

    became apparent to George Angelfield t Isabelle o ors. tor to come calling no s s. “tell your God o  a  you!”  of their welcome.

    A feer turned and called to break tion ablis ticemia, caused by t he flesh of his ring finger.

    C die, t understand rail of footprints in t and follo every day, starting at top of ttic bedrooms not used for years, servants’ rooms, family rooms, tudy, tc less, endless,  nig out to roam tate, irelessly for. ips were a bloody, scabby mess.