Chapter 66

What a sight he must have been in this old coat too narrow for him and these huge, shapeless boots.

Here he was, Frankenstein’s monster, blinking at the light of day.

A flock of pigeons flew off the ground in a great show of gray wings, and Joe jumped, unnerved at the sound. Everything was so clear, so defined. He could hear every sound around him. Clasping his felt hat, Joe walked around the square again, looking for that head of ginger hair. A telegraph had been sent to him, but had Christophe received it?

Would he be here today?

On the train, as Joe was being led away from Linhart’s icy grasp, he’d had long, lonely hours to mull over his life, and Joe had made a decision—one of many. He’d stay with Christophe, whatever happened, he’d stay with him. If there was something wrong with him, something broken, Joe refused to fix it. He preferred living in those dark corners with Christophe, to a life in the sun without Christophe at his side.