Prologue

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There was a chill to the late spring air and the lone man walking along the dimly lit street in Denver, Colorado was forced to shove his hands into his pockets to keep them warm.  His breath fogged the early morning air, the puffs dissipating up into the dark sky.

            It was just after two in the morning.  He was exhausted and more than a little drunk but was coherent enough to know that something was amiss, even though he couldn't place what felt wrong.  His pace quickened and he moved almost at a run between the spots where the light from the lampposts didn't reach.  The darkness felt dangerous tonight and the last thing he wanted to do was get caught in one of the alleyways.

            A shadow moved in his peripheral.  He jerked around, startled and prepared to yell, but there was nothing there.  Nothing but the wind carrying an old piece of newspaper across the asphalt.  No matter what his eyes saw, he couldn't get past the feeling that someone—or something, he considered with a shudder—was watching him.

            He felt suddenly very cold.  The man drew his coat tighter around himself, fighting to keep the cold and the shadows at bay.  As if the coat would protect him from whatever was lurking in the nearby alleyways. 

            It didn't.

            The Shadow moved quickly; in the time it took between blinks.  There was a rush of wind, a whisper of breath, and a flash of darkness.  One clawed hand wrapped around the man's throat, the other stifling his scream, and then the Shadow pulled the man into an alleyway.  There was not even enough time for the man to struggle before he was yanked away.

            No one would remember the man from that night.  Not a soul saw him disappear.  But the next morning his face would be littered across news broadcasts, printed on the front page of newspapers, and gossiped about by city-goers all across Denver.  People would wonder if there was a serial killer on the loose, speculate over who had butchered the man so badly that the only identifying features he had left were his fingerprints.

            But no one would know about the Shadow.  Not until it was too late.

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