Chapter 5

Mid-summer, 1873, Boston, Massachusetts. Just after midnight

Paul walked along a narrow street, lit by gaslights. I’d read about them in stories, but I’d never actually seen them until now. The quality of light was different from electric lights, softer, warmer and yet not safer. They left larger, darker shadows in the night.

He strode along, head moving from side to side. His vision was…odd. He would look at a person, and it was as if he briefly stopped time.

Shift.

Stop.

A beggar, blind and filthy, hand outstretched.

Shift.

Stop.

A woman, dressed in red, also with a hand outstretched, but a different kind of entreaty.

Shift.

Stop.

A gentleman in a long black cloak...

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