As he stared wide-eyed at their retreating shadows on the stone wall behind the walkway, Pradel suddenly shouted, ‘Wait, wait; this is a joke, this has to be a joke. In the name of Christ, you cannot – ’

  ‘Shut up, Pradel. I’m warning you. One more peep…’

  Already Henri Grandet’s voice sounded far away, the last voice Pierre Pradel would be hearing for half a decade.

  ‘Henri!’ he shrieked.

  The light went out.

 

 

  Ben Stevens, The Devourer of Men

 

 

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