She descended down the stairs of the house, sidestepping the refuse from bingedrinking teenagers that was strewn everywhere. Annabel shook her head. It was not human and yet very human, a high pitched wail of hunger that rattled her skull. "Mac, did you ever run across a missioner by the name of Enschede?" "Enschede?" McClintock stared at the ceiling. m. ‘What is it?’ ‘Er—shouldn’t I tell—I mean, the young lady, sir—’ ‘You can leave the young lady to me. Would you mind drawing them back?” Ennison sprang up, but he never reached the curtains. “Aunt!” she said, “I can’t—” Then she caught a wild appeal in her aunt’s blue eye, halted, and the door clicked upon them.
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