Chapter 1

A thick, damp fog swirled down upon the tall, square houses of Grimsby Street, spiralling silently downwards like an eerie silver spectre. The road itself was deserted due to the lateness of the hour and an unnatural silence had descended. The thin, grimy houses standing resolutely in a row on either side of the narrow street seemed neglected and abandoned for not a sign of life showed from within them. Not a single gas lamp shone through one of the soiled windows; not a slither of soft, warm light could be distinguished between door and floor; the only discernible source of light came from a street lamp at the end of the road, its dim rays flickering with the flame, casting ghostly shadows through the impenetrable mist. It seemed probable that it would burn itself out within the hour, leaving the dire street wrapped in a blanket of total darkness, save the soft silver moonlight which crept out from behind a series of dismal clouds from time to time. A distinct chill ran through the air, enough to freeze the very bones of any haggard, weary traveller with the misfortune to be outside so late on a night as dour as the present; but not a single soul was about to feel an uncontrollable shiver pass through their benumbed frame or else press closer the warm confinements of a cloak or shawl in the hope of savouring just a fraction of body heat which was fast escaping into the midst of the chilling night air.
    Though nothing stirred outside in the desolate street, an onlooker in one of the upstairs windows of number five shifted uncomfortably in the position she had been squatting in for over an hour, though she was hardly aware of her own movement in her present state. She remained perched on the windowsill, staring blankly at the stillness below as though she was in a stupor.  As she continued to gaze unseeingly at the empty street beneath her, a figure wearing a dark travelling cloak slipped quietly around the corner, casting furtive looks about him. He could not afford to be seen; the dense smog still circling its way down the street, the cover of nightfall and the lateness of the hour weren’t enough to reassure his disquieted mind. The watcher was perplexed and confused; she didn’t know who the stranger was nor where he had come from, but still he was there, darting quickly up the street, taking care to press himself as deeply into the shadows as the grim, stone exterior of the houses behind him would allow. The onlooker was distressed; he had no right to be here.  Why had he come and why was he taking such heavy precautions not to alert anyone to his presence?
She closed her eyes, silently willing him to leave just as suddenly as he had appeared.  Then, he did.  Seemingly as if by magic, he vanished, along with the constricted feeling in the watcher’s chest. As the figure sank through the mist, the watcher’s head collided with the cool glass of the window as she fell into a deep, heavy sleep.